Irresponsible
by Chanel19
Summary: Takes place the summer after the events of All's Well that Ends Well. Hermione deals with the ramifications of restoring her memories while Ron deals with a shocking revelation from his past. Part of my Fallen Series AU.
1. First Son of the Sixth One

**First Son of the Sixth One**

Hermione was grateful to be out of the pouring rain when she stepped into Weasley's Enchanted Electronics. She was meeting Ron for lunch and made her way to the back of the store to his office. She tapped lightly on the door.

"Come in," Ron said. He was sitting at his desk writing a letter. He looked up. "Hullo luv, I just need a minute and then we can go. Have a seat."

She sat in the wing chair opposite his desk, crossed her legs, and watched him scrawl his letter. His handwriting hadn't improved much since school, she thought. He looked it over before folding it and sealing it with wax. A large barn owl waited in the corner of his office on a perch. "There you are, Minos. Off you go." Ron opened the window and the big bird flew out.

"So," he said, turning to Hermione. "How was your appointment?"

She shrugged. "Alright, I guess."

He moved to the other wing chair next to hers. "Do you think it's helping?"

"I don't know. It's hard to say. Obviously, I'm still having nightmares, but she does have me thinking differently about some things."

Ron cocked his head. "Like what?"

"Do you really want to get into this?" she asked.

Ron reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. "We don't have to, but if you're not sure this is helping and you want to talk it through, then I'm happy to listen."

She bit her bottom lip. "I don't know. She seems to want to let me off the hook for an awful lot."

"Like?"

"Like, she says that while I was responsible for smoking with Todor, I didn't know the drinks were spiked with ecstasy, so I'm not on the hook for the effects of that."

"That sounds reasonable," Ron said.

"But, if I'm not on the hook for that, then I'm not on the hook for getting pregnant, and if I'm not responsible for that, then it wasn't my fault Viktor and I were in Bulgaria when we were attacked. And if that's not my fault…" She stopped.

"It's not your fault you lost the baby," Ron finished for her, nodding. "That all sounds logical to me."

Hermione pushed a tear off her cheek with her thumb. "That seems a little too pat, don't you think?"

"No. I think it sounds right."

Hermione shook her head. "How does that sound right?"

Ron leaned over and took her hands in his. "I've known you for decades. I imagine you smoked with Todor for much the same reason you drank."

She nodded. "I actually wasn't really drinking very much at that point. I didn't even know what we were smoking until later. I mean, obviously I knew it was some kind of drug, I just didn't know what, and I didn't ask. Stupid."

"Nah," Ron said, "Not stupid, reckless, the kind of reckless you are when you feel like there's nothing left to lose, and honestly, that does sound like you. But the rest of it, none of that seems like things you would have done of your own accord."

"But to say I'm not responsible…" she shook her head. "That's too easy, isn't it?"

"Really?" Ron said. "How long have you been punishing yourself for this? Isn't that what seeing this healer is about? Aren't you supposed to be learning how to forgive yourself?"

"I don't know."

He sighed. "Let me ask you this, do you blame yourself for what happened with you and me and Harry?"

She looked up sharply. "Ron!"

He squeezed her hands. "No. Listen. That was something that was done to us. The Poacher's Curse caused that effect, but how is that different from what happened to you in Amsterdam?"

She opened her mouth but didn't say anything at first. Finally, she said, "It just is."

Ron shook his head. "No, it isn't."

She glared at him. "What happened in the woods wasn't anyone's fault but that wretched Death Eater's."

"Right, and from what I understand of what happened in Amsterdam, it was that bloke Filip's fault."

"It's not that simple," Hermione said, sighing.

"Why not?"

"Because we…I wasn't cursed. I chose to smoke with Todor."

"Right, but you didn't choose to take ecstasy."

"I know, but—" She shook her head. "I can't explain. It just is."

He gave her a knowing look. "Because in the moment you wanted it, right?"

She blushed. "I—"

"That's the whole point of ecstasy, isn't it? No inhibitions?"

"Yes," she said quietly, "but if that's me uninhibited then isn't that just…me?"

Ron laughed. "Of course not. We are our inhibitions. Otherwise we'd just be hedonistic animals running around doing whatever struck our fancy."

That gave her pause.

"Since we've been together have you ever seen another bloke and thought he was attractive."

She scowled at him.

"Oh, come on, be honest. My ego isn't that fragile."

She sighed. "Of course."

"Did you come on to him?"

"No. Don't be ridiculous."

"Right, because we are more than the sum of our desires. If that's true now, then why wasn't it true then?"

"I don't..."

"So, then it comes down to that Filip bloke. He spiked the drinks. Filip is the villain in the story, not you, not Viktor, not Todor. More importantly, I think you know that. You've always known it or you wouldn't have stayed with Viktor and you wouldn't have consented to vacation with Todor and his wife."

Hermione looked at him. "How long have you been thinking about this?"

Ron gave her a half smile. "Ever since I saw those photos. But especially lately since you put the memories back and we've been talking."

She blew out an exhausted breath. "If it's not my fault, why do I feel so guilty?"

"I think it's just your nature to feel responsible whether you actually are or not." There was a knock on the door. Ron got to his feet and opened it.

"Sorry to interrupt," Seamus said. "But there's a young man out here asking to see you."

"I don't have anyone on the schedule," Ron said. "I'm supposed to be taking Hermione to lunch."

"He says it's a family matter."

"What?" Ron said. "Okay." He turned to Hermione, "I'll be right back." He closed the door behind him.

Hermione pulled out her wand and cast a charm so no one could see she'd been crying and opened the door to the store. She saw Ron talking to a young man, who from the back, she thought was Fred and Angelina's son, John. He was a tall man with skin the color of a latte and short, red hair and a beard. A closer look revealed a stranger. They started walking toward her.

"This is my wife," Ron said to the young man. "Hermione, this is Denis."

The young man stuck out his hand.

"Hullo," Hermione said, shaking it. She gave Ron a curious look.

"Come in," he said and they all three went back into the office.

Denis looked at Hermione. "Oh," he said awkwardly. "Um."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said. "Should I go?"

"No," Ron said. "What's so urgent?" he asked Denis.

"Um," Denis said.

"Look, we're supposed to be going to lunch and I've got a meeting this afternoon, so say what you've got to say."

The young man cleared his throat. "Alright then, I think you're my father."

Ron laughed. "I don't think so mate."

Denis reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a photo. "My mum is Ester Omondi," he held the photo out to Ron.

Ron took it and all the blood drained from his face. He sat down hard on one of the chairs in front of his desk. "Oh," he said. "Uh…"

"That's you, right?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah." Ron stared at him. "She never said."

"I know," Denis said. "To me either, until I ran across this photo when I was cleaning out the attic."

Ron was positively gobsmacked. "I don't know what to say."

Denis shrugged. "Yeah, me either. I just…I'm in England for a summer internship at Gringotts. I thought, since I was here, I should try and meet you."

"Yeah," Ron said. "Yeah. Of course. Gringotts, that's a big deal."

"My great uncle got me the position," Denis said.

"Who's your great uncle?" Ron asked.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt."

Ron nodded. "Your great uncle is the Minister of Magic."

"Yeah."

"Good man, Kingsley. We worked with him during the war," Ron said absently, still staring at the photo.

"He speaks very highly of you," Denis said.

"He knows then?" Ron asked.

"No, I thought I ought to meet you first."

Ron nodded. "Right. I appreciate that. Look, are you sure?"

Denis shrugged. "Mum seemed sure."

Ron looked at Hermione. "Is there—?"

"A spell?" she said trying to rein in her own shock.

"Yeah," Ron said.

"Several actually," Hermione said dryly, her jaw tight.

"Can you?"

She glanced from one to the other and sighed. "Sure. It's pretty simple since you're both here. Shake hands." When their hands were clasped Hermione pulled out her wand and cast a paternity spell. A golden string issued from her wand and wound around their hands and over their wrists. When it was done winding, it glowed green and then dissipated.

"I take it that's a yes," Ron said, his face blanching.

Hermione nodded.

"Welcome to the family then, I guess," Ron said awkwardly.

Denis nodded. "Um. Thanks. Look, I know I just sprung this on you. I've lived with it for a couple of months, so I've had a bit more time to digest it. I don't want anything or need anything from you, but if you think you might want to get to know me, I'll be at the Three Broomsticks for the next couple of months. Then I'm heading back to Kenya."

Ron nodded. "Your aunt owns that inn."

Denis raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Yeah," Ron said quietly. "I'm one of seven. Most of us have kids. You've got family all over the place here."

Denis smiled awkwardly. "Well, that's new. I'm an only and so was my mum, so... Anyway, I'll let you sit with this. Let me know if you want to talk more."

Ron nodded. "Right. I'll be in touch."

Denis nodded and shook his hand again. "Nice meeting you." He shook Hermione's hand. "You too."

Hermione nodded. When the door closed behind the young man, she turned to Ron. He was very pale. "Maybe you should sit back down. You don't look so good."

Ron sat down in one of the chairs and put his face in his hands. "Bloody hell."

Denis had left the photo of his mother and Ron. Hermione picked it up. Ester Omondi was beautiful. In the photo, she and Ron stood next to each other with their arms around each other's waists. She was only a few inches shorter than Ron, model thin, with skin the color of polished mahogany, impossibly high cheek bones, and a warm smile. The photo was magical and showed Ron saying something and then kissing her cheek as she laughed over and over again. "How did you meet?" she asked.

"I went to an international business conference in Kenya. She was the Kenyan Ministry of Magic's associate director of international trade and economics. We met the day before the conference at a wine and cheese social."

"Oh," Hermione said softly. "She sounds accomplished."

"Very," Ron said.

"How long were you together?"

"A couple of weeks. The conference lasted a week and then I stayed to do some sightseeing."

She raised her eyebrows. "I assume she acted as your tour guide."

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Well, she certainly is beautiful."

Ron nodded again. "Yeah."

Hermione set the photo back on his desk and blew out a slow, calming breath.

"Well, go on," he said.

"Go on what?" Hermione asked.

"Just say it," he said, clearly irritated.

"Say what?"

"Tell me what a prat I am."

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Really? You're expecting a lecture on sexual irresponsibility from me? What were we just talking about before he got here?"

Ron snorted. "It's not the same."

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"I wasn't high or cursed or drunk even. I just forgot the bloody charm."

"The last time I checked, which admittedly has been quite a while, it takes two people to forget the charm."

"Yeah, I guess." He shook his head. "But she never said. I don't…not even an owl…to tell me I had a son." He pushed his fingers back through his hair. "How is that fair?"

Hermione blew out another long slow breath. "It's not, I guess."

Ron scowled at her. "You guess? You didn't do that. You told Todor."

Hermione shifted uneasily. "I did, but honestly, I'm not sure I would have if Viktor hadn't been part of the equation."

Ron sat up and looked at her. "What?"

"Look, if Viktor had left me after Amsterdam, which could easily have happened, I'm not sure I would've ever told Todor I was pregnant."

"What do you mean? He was the father. Are you saying you would've gotten rid of it?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. I wanted a family. Not like that, but I would've had her. I was working. I had a house. I could have afforded childcare. But, all I knew about Todor was that he was Viktor's cousin and best friend, an artist, and a drug addict. I'm not going to sit here and say I definitely would have told him about the baby. Without Viktor, I don't think I would have necessarily wanted him in my life. What if he wanted visitation or joint custody or something? Even with Viktor that was a risk. Todor agreed to let us raise her as ours, but he didn't have to. That could've all gone the other way."

"So, you think Ester was right not to tell me?" He looked hurt and offended.

"I didn't say that. I'm just saying I understand why she didn't. She didn't really know you. You lived in another country thousands of miles away. Maybe she thought it was better to raise him on her own. It's hard for me to condemn another woman's choices."

"What about my choices?" Ron said, clearly angry.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry you didn't get to know him when he was little. I really am. But the truth is, there's nothing to be done about the past. What you can do is get to know him now."

Ron rested his elbows on his knees and put his face in his hands. "I'm going to have to tell everyone." He shook his head. "I'm going to have to tell Art he has a half-brother." He looked up at her with red-rimmed eyes. "What if there are others?"

She frowned at him. "What happened to I-never-forget-the-charm-with-anyone-but-you?"

"I didn't think I did, but clearly that's not the case. Bloody hell."

She raised her eyebrows. "Just how many women are we talking?"

He shrugged. "A lot."

Hermione shook her head. "Fantastic," she said sarcastically.

He had the decency to look chagrined.

"Realistically, I think if you had children in the UK, you'd know. The magical world is too small here to hide that. Unless you were also sleeping with Muggles. Were you sleeping with Muggles?"

Ron shook his head. "No. Where would I meet Muggles?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Fine. So how many women did you sleep with outside the UK?"

Ron screwed up his face. "I don't know. Some. There were other conferences."

"Okay," Hermione said, getting to her feet. "Well, there are locator spells for paternity. I suggest you learn them."

"Can't you just—"

"No, I can't. I gave you one child. You want to find any others, you can figure it out on your own," she said sharply.

"Oh, right, so you are angry."

She shook her head. "Angry? No. Angry doesn't describe what I am."

"So, what are you?"

"Appalled. I'm appalled. You know why? Because for years, I got branded a slag because I dared to have a relationship with someone that wasn't you and wasn't British. Meanwhile, you apparently fucked every witch you could get your hands on, and you're still a hero. What an incredible crock of—"

"It wasn't as many as all that!" Ron shouted.

"No? Then how many?"

"I don't know. I wasn't counting."

"It's the fact that you would have to count that's the problem!" she shouted back at him.

"Everyone has to count!" he argued.

"Four!" Hermione shouted.

"Oh, come on there were more than four people in those Amsterdam photos," Ron grumbled.

Hermione felt her face go hot. "Fine," she said through gritted teeth. "Seven then. Now you!"

"Uh, um, well…" he sputtered.

"Exactly!" She pulled his office door open. "I'm going home."

xxx

Ron had no appetite for lunch, so he sent an owl to Denis at the Three Broomsticks asking if they could have breakfast in the morning and then went to his afternoon appointment. The meeting ran late so it was almost eight o'clock when he returned home. Hermione was having dinner with Art and his girlfriend Emma in the dining room. An empty place setting was left for Ron. Art and Emma said their hellos. Hermione merely nodded at him. When he sat down, food appeared on his plate along with a glass of water. Since Hermione had restored her memories, she'd been trying not to go crawling into her cups to deal with the nightmares about the events in Bulgaria. Ron was trying to be supportive by not drinking either. Not that he ever had more than the occasional glass of ale these days anyway but as he looked at the roast pork, mashed potatoes, and spinach salad that appeared on his plate he wished he could drink it all down with something stronger than water.

"How was your day, Dad?" Art asked.

Ron looked over at Hermione who subtly shook her head. Ron sighed. "Eventful."

"Yeah," Art said. "How's that?"

Ron set down his fork. "I need to tell you something and it might be upsetting to hear. I could tell you privately or I could tell you and Emma both. She's going to know soon enough anyway, but it's up to you how you want to hear it."

Art looked from his mother to his father. "Alright," he said cautiously. "Emma can hear it with me then."

Ron looked down at his plate. "A young man came to see me today. He's a couple of years older than you. He looks a lot like your cousin John." He blew out a slow calming breath. "I had a brief affair with his mother when your mother and I were broken up and..."

Art's eyes widened and Emma took his hand.

"He's my son," Ron finished.

Art's mouth dropped open. "He's what?"

"Your half-brother," Ron said.

"Bloody hell, Dad," Art said standing.

"Art," Emma said softly. He pulled his hand away from hers and left the room. They could hear the backdoor open and then slam shut.

Ron went to stand, but Emma held up a hand to stop him. "Let me," she said. "He probably just needs a minute."

Ron nodded and sat back down. He looked at Hermione as Emma left the room. "That could have gone better."

"Yes," she said.

"I really am sorry," he said.

"I know. It's not like this happened yesterday though. And his mother didn't tell you, so it's not like you shirked your responsibility. You didn't know he existed, which wasn't your fault."

"I should have been more careful."

"Sure," Hermione said. "You made a bad decision in your early twenties. Who hasn't?"

He shook his head. "I keep trying to think what I would have done if she'd told me."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "And?"

"I don't rightly know. I mean, I hardly knew her, so I can't see asking her to marry me. And Kenya's a nice enough country, but let's face it, I'm like an albino there. I'd spend my whole life drowning in sunblock potions. Besides, I'd just opened the shop and it was doing really well. I can't see me chucking that and moving to Kenya, but Ester already had an important job with their Ministry. She was a few years older than me and already established. It's not like she was going to give up her life there to move to England for a bloke she hardly knew, no matter how much fun we'd had."

"Feel free to leave details like how much fun she was out from now on," Hermione said flatly.

Ron ducked his head. "Right. Sorry."

"Honestly, Ron. It sounds like you've just covered her whole decision-making process when she decided not to tell you."

"You think?" he said.

"I do. And in the end, it doesn't matter because it's done now."

"Except he's here."

"Right. How are you going to handle that?"

"Well, he is my son. I ought to get to know him while I have the opportunity, don't you think?"

Hermione nodded. "I do."

"I sent him an owl and asked if we could have breakfast at the Three Broomsticks tomorrow."

"Have you heard back yet?"

Ron shook his head. They could hear the back door open and Art and Emma returned to the dining room. Art sat down at the table and looked at his parents. "What's his name?"

"Denis Omondi," Ron said.

"So, he lives in London?"

"No," Ron said. "He's from Nairobi, but he's doing an internship at Gringotts for the summer and staying at the Three Broomsticks."

Art's eyes widened in surprise. "Do Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry know? What about Clive and Devin?"

"No. The four of us are the only ones that know right now, but that will change."

Art frowned. "So, you're just going to tell everyone?"

Ron nodded. "I'm sorry Art, but he is my son. The family has a right to know he exists. How much interaction they'll want to have with him is up to them and him, but it would be wrong to keep him hidden."

"You have all this time," Art said angrily.

"Art," Hermione said.

"I didn't know he existed until he walked into the shop today."

"So," Art said, shaking his head. "What? You just used his mother and abandoned her."

Ron clenched his jaw.

"Watch your tone, Arthur," Hermione admonished.

"My tone?" Art shouted pointing to Ron. "He's got another son and you're worried about my tone!"

Hermione bristled. "You'll watch your tone in this house because you're my son—"

Ron held out a palm to each of them. "Alright, alright, calm down."

Hermione and Art glared at each other but they both complied.

"Look Art," Ron said, "we were two consenting adults. No one used anyone. We had a fun couple of weeks and then we went our separate ways. Obviously, neither one of us intended for her to get pregnant, but that's what happened. She chose not to tell me for her own reasons and that's that."

Art frowned. "Except that's not that, because he's here now."

"Yes, and if he'll let me, I'd like to get to know him before he goes back to Kenya."

"Do I have to meet him?" Art asked.

"Not if you don't want to."

"Fine," Art said, standing. "I don't." He stormed out of the room.

Emma looked at them both apologetically, before following Art out of the room.

Ron was grateful that Emma was spending the weekend with them. She could be a calming influence on Art. After they'd graduated from Hogwarts, she'd moved into the apartment over Ron's shop in Diagon Alley and had started her post-graduate studies at St. Mungo's to become a healer. Art had theoretically moved home to start the trials for the Department of Mysteries, which would take the better part of a year unless he washed out early. But he spent more and more time at Emma's. He was effectively living there. They were here for the weekend because they both had most of it free and Art hadn't seen his parents in weeks. Ron couldn't help wondering if, after this evening's revelation, they wouldn't go back to Emma's flat. He sighed.

Hermione got up from the table. "I think I'm going to go read in bed."

"Alright." Ron sighed. "I'll be up in a little while."

xxx

At nine o'clock an owl showed up with a note from Denis accepting Ron's breakfast invitation and saying he'd see him at nine o'clock. Ron spent the rest of the evening listening to music on the wireless and trying to think what to say to either of his sons in the morning. It was almost midnight when he finally went upstairs. Hermione had already put out the light. Ron was somewhat disheartened to see her wearing a gown, a sure sign she was cross with him, especially in the summer. He stripped down to his underpants and slipped in next to her.

xxx

It was three o'clock in the morning, when Hermione woke screaming. Since restoring her memories it was a common occurrence. Ron lit the lamp next to his side of the bed and turned to her. She was panting and rubbing her wrists. "I have to get these off," she muttered.

"Hey," Ron said.

She looked at him wild-eyed.

He put his hands over hers. "You were having a nightmare. There's nothing on your wrists. You're safe. Everything is fine."

Hermione looked down at her hands. "Oh," she said softly. "Right."

"You want to talk about it?" he asked, but he already knew the answer.

She shook her head and rolled over, settling back down. Ron turned off the light. Just as he was dozing off, she sat up, panting again and rubbing her wrists. This time she got out of bed. He lit the lamp. "Hermione?"

She didn't answer and left the room.

"Fuck," Ron muttered and got out of bed. He pulled on his dressing gown, grabbed hers, and followed her downstairs.

He found her in the kitchen rummaging through cabinets. Winky appeared just as Ron entered the room. "What does Miss need?" Winky asked.

"A bottle of Ogden's, or a bottle of wine, ale even, something."

Winky looked at Ron.

"Go to bed, Winky," Ron said. Winky disappeared. "You know there isn't any." Ron said to Hermione.

She glared at him. "Seriously? How could I have been so stupid?" She snapped her fingers. "Maybe in my study."

Ron followed her. "You don't want to do this."

"Don't tell me what I want."

"Why don't you just tell me what you're dreaming? It might help."

She shook her head and began reaching behind books on the shelves of her study.

"You've been hiding whiskey?" Ron asked, his brow furrowed with worry.

"I used to. There might be something left." She climbed the library ladder to reach the top shelves.

Ron moved some books off of one of the wing chairs in front of her desk and sat down. He knew she couldn't be but so serious or she'd have used Accio.

She glanced at him. "Just go back to bed."

"No. If you're drinking, I'm drinking."

She frowned at him. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Ridiculous or not, that's what's happening if you find a bottle. I could use a drink. I've had a hell of a day."

She frowned and sat down on the top step of the ladder and rubbed her wrists.

"You're dreaming about what happened in Bulgaria, right?"

She nodded and rubbed her wrists harder. "I keep seeing it," she whispered.

"What do you keep seeing?"

"The mirror."

"I don't understand," Ron said, leaning forward.

"It was a big room, very cold, and there was a huge mirror in one corner. They dumped me in front of it."

Ron reached out to still her hands. "They tied you up. That's why you keep rubbing your wrists."

She nodded. "Every time I came to, someone stunned me. But for a second, I could see myself in the mirror. Every time I opened my eyes, I looked worse."

"I don't understand," Ron said. "If they kept stunning you, what did they want from you?"

"I think they meant to exchange me for someone else. I'm not sure, but that's what it sounded like from what little I heard."

"But why keep stunning you after they took your wand?"

She shook her head. "I don't think they were very powerful wizards. I think they were afraid of me. They seemed very concerned that I could do wandless nonverbal spells."

Ron nodded. "You are formidable."

"Not as formidable then as I am now and I was five months pregnant, hardly battle ready."

"Five months?" Ron said, stunned. Viktor had lied when he'd said she'd lost the baby early in the pregnancy.

"Yeah," Hermione said softly.

"I'm sorry," he said. "That must have been awful."

She nodded. "I don't know exactly what they did to me while I was stunned, but they didn't just leave me there. It was bad. After a while, I couldn't feel my hands or feet and I couldn't feel the baby move. The Aurors came and rescued me, but it was too late."

He was surprised that she wasn't crying. He thought he might prefer that to the hollowed out look she had. She shivered and he remembered he'd brought her dressing gown downstairs with him. He held it out for her and she slipped into it. He wrapped it around her and cinched the belt for her. "Come on," he said, taking her hand. "I'll fix you some tea."

She followed him into the kitchen and sat at the table while he heated the kettle with his wand. He brought her a cup of chamomile to the table and sat across from her. "Did the hospital not give you a medical report of your injuries?"

She looked up at him. "They did. I didn't read it. I asked Viktor to burn it. I don't know if he read it first or not."

Ron nodded. "Okay."

She shook her head. "It wasn't good."

He took her hand and kissed it. "It was a long time ago. You're okay. You'll get through this, you just have to let the memories settle. They're still fresh right now."

"I shouldn't have left them out for so long."

Ron shrugged. "Maybe, but I imagine once you take them out it's easy to forget about putting them back in."

"Yes," she said. "That's the problem."

Ron kissed her hand again.

She sipped her tea and looked up at him. "Did you ever hear from Denis?"

He nodded. "Breakfast tomorrow at the Three Broomsticks at nine o'clock."

"Are you going to introduce him to Harry and Ginny?"

"Not right away. Ginny shouldn't be there in the morning anyway, so I thought I'd go talk to them after. Then I thought I'd tell the rest of the family at Sunday dinner."

Hermione smiled sympathetically. "Do you want me with you?"

"It depends."

"On what?" she asked.

"If Art and Emma stay here tomorrow, I think maybe you should stick around. If they go back to the flat, I'd love to have you with me."

Hermione nodded. "I can do that. Why don't I have breakfast with Art and Emma and you have breakfast with Denis. Then I'll come meet you before you go see Harry and Ginny."

Ron nodded. "That sounds good."


	2. None Too Careful

**None Too Careful**

The next morning, Ron left for the Three Broomsticks just before nine. Art and Emma hadn't come down yet. Hermione puttered around in her study until nine-thirty when she finally heard them descending the stairs. She walked into the kitchen to find Art and Emma already drinking coffee. Winky put eggs and soldiers in front of everyone and a large cup of tea for Hermione.

There were two copies of _The Daily Prophet_ on the table and Art reached for one but Hermione put her hand down on the papers first. "I think we should talk," she said firmly.

Art frowned.

"I understand that finding out that your father has another son wasn't easy to hear. It wasn't easy for me either, or for him, for that matter, but like it or not, that's the situation we're all in. Now, if you don't have any desire to meet Denis, that's entirely up to you, and I can respect that. However, it's not your place to sit in judgement of your father. Do try not to be so sanctimonious moving forward. It's an ugly trait."

Art shook his head. "How could he be so stupid?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "Really? You've never gotten caught up in the moment and forgotten the charm? Not even once?"

Art glanced at Emma who looked away. "Well," he said, "but Dad should know better."

"Your dad does know better, but he wasn't your dad then, was he? He was only a few years older than you are now. Accidents happen. This one resulted in a young man who seemed intelligent and quite poised for his age. I'm sorry you don't want to meet him. He might look like John, but he reminded me of you."

Art shook his head. "I don't know Mum."

"It's not as if you have to decide right now. He'll be here for a couple of months."

"Yeah, alright, I'll think about it."

"Good," Hermione said. "So, what do you two have planned for today?"

Emma looked at Art and raised her eyebrows.

"We have tickets for a concert this afternoon," Art said. "And then we thought we'd come back here."

Hermione smiled. "Good. I told your father I would go with him to talk to Harry and Ginny."

"How do you think that will go?" Art asked.

Hermione shrugged. "I guess we'll find out." She dipped a toast soldier into her soft-boiled egg and bit off the end. "Winky, these eggs are perfect."

"Yes Miss," Winky said.

"I don't know," Art said, in a teasing tone. "I think Perry makes them better. He puts more butter on the toast."

"Perry puts too much butter on the toast," Winky said with a disapproving frown. "Topper doesn't put enough."

Hermione smiled to hear Winky talk about her twin sons. Perry lived with Art and Emma at Emma's flat. Topper lived with Harry and Ginny's son, Clive, at his flat in Hogsmeade. Unwilling to disagree with Winky, she just nodded her head. She knew who buttered her toast.

xXx

After breakfast, Hermione Apparated to Hogsmeade and made her way into the Three Broomsticks. She was surprised to see Denis at a table alone with a tall black woman who could only be his mother leaning over him shaking a piece of parchment in his face. "You leave your mama a note, a note to tell her you're going half way around the world!" she shouted.

Denis seemed both shocked and chagrinned. "Mama what are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? What are you doing here? What do you possibly hope to accomplish?"

Ron stepped out of the hallway that lead to the toilets. "I reckon he wanted to meet his father."

Ester looked up and her mouth dropped open. "Ron?"

"Ester," Ron said grimly.

"Oh, you foolish boy," Ester said to her son.

Hermione looked around the room at the other people eating in the dining room. Everyone had stopped what they were doing and were staring at Ester and Ron. "Perhaps we should take this to Ginny's office," she said. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

"That's a good idea," Ron said. "Stan, can I have the key?"

Stan Shunpike, who was behind the bar, didn't hesitate to throw Ron a ring of keys.

"Come on," Ron said.

Denis, Ester, and Hermione followed him upstairs to Ginny's office. They could hear conversation resume behind them. Ron opened Ginny's office and they all stepped inside. They all stood staring at each other as Hermione closed the door behind her. She whispered, "Impreturb."

"Well, this is a fine mess you've made," Ester said to Denis.

"In all fairness," Ron said. "I think you made this mess, Ester. Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?"

Ester clenched her jaw. "Who is this?" she said pointing to Hermione.

"That's my wife," Ron said.

Ester looked askance. "Well, she would be why then."

"What?" Ron said.

"You were married, Ron. I never wanted Denis to know I'd had an affair with a married man."

"No, I wasn't," Ron said.

"Then you were dating. You were something. You called another woman's name in your sleep. Harriot, Hilary, something, it was a long name."

"Hermione?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Ester said. "That was it."

Hermione raised her hand. "That was me."

Ester glared at Ron.

"We weren't married then. We were broken up. She was with someone else," Ron said.

Ester shook her head. "Well, I thought you must be married, so I didn't tell you."

"Why didn't you just ask instead of letting him grow up without a father?" Ron said angrily.

"I didn't grow up without a father," Denis said.

Ron looked at him.

"Mum married Oliver Kimani when I was four-years-old. He was a great baba."

"Oh," Ron said. "Well, that's good then." He looked at Ester. "Did he come with you?"

Her face fell and she shook her head. "No. He…"

"He was killed," Denis finished for her. "By a rampaging Erumpent. He grabbed a child to get him out of the way and was gored through the side. The horn went right into his heart. He died instantly."

"I'm so sorry," Ron said.

"That's awful," Hermione said.

"It's been couple years now," Denis said sadly and from the look on Ester's face, she still felt the loss deeply.

Ester shook her head. "Enough of this." She turned to her son. "Do you really mean to stay here all summer?"

"Uncle Kingsley got me an internship at Gringotts. I told you that in the note."

She frowned at him. "That is not how you tell your mama you are going to a foreign country for the summer."

"I'm sorry Mama," Denis said, "but I knew if I told you in person, you'd try and talk me out of it."

"You and I need to talk," Ester said firmly. "Just us."

"Alright Mama," Denis said. "I have a room here. Follow me."

Hermione opened the door and closed it behind them. She looked at Ron and tried to suppress a smile.

"Oh, don't look so smug," he grumbled.

"You talk in your sleep," she said.

He shook his head. "Yeah, and that has cost me more than one relationship."

She nodded. "Okay." She opened the door and stepped into the hallway with Ron following.

"You're going to be unbearable about this, aren't you?"

She chuckled. "Maybe."

Ron sighed. "I guess we should go talk to Harry and Ginny. You know she'll hear about what happened downstairs as soon as she comes in. That's if Stan hasn't already sent an owl to tell her."

Hermione nodded.

xXx

They headed downstairs and took the Floo to Harry and Ginny's home in Godric's Hollow. The two had initially lived in Grimmauld Place, but they decided it would be nicer to raise children in Godric's Hollow, so they'd rebuilt Harry's parents' house.

Harry was reading in the parlor when Ron and Hermione stepped out of the fireplace.

"Hullo," Harry said, looking alarmed. "What are you two doing here?"

"We need to talk," Ron said. "Is Ginny around?"

Just then Ginny walked into the room carrying two mugs of tea. "Oi," she said. "What are you two doing here?"

"We need to talk," Ron repeated.

Ginny handed Harry his tea. "Can I get you a cuppa?"

Ron and Hermione both declined and they all sat down. Ron cleared his throat. "Uh, Stan's probably going to have a story for you when you go in this afternoon."

"Oh?" Ginny said.

"You have a guest staying at the inn, Dennis Omandi."

"Yeah," Ginny said. "So?"

"You might have noticed he looks a lot like John."

"He does, yeah." Her eyes widened.

"He's my son," Ron said.

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "How's that?"

"Bloody hell, Ron!" Ginny said.

"I didn't know about him until yesterday. His mother never told me she was pregnant," Ron said.

"And his mother is?" Harry asked.

"Ester Omondi. I met her in Kenya when I went for that international business conference ages ago."

Ginny looked at Hermione who hadn't said anything and whose eyes remained down. "How old is he?" Ginny asked.

"A couple years older than Art," Ron said.

"So, you two weren't together," Harry said.

"Of course not!" Ron said.

Hermione put a cool hand on his forearm. "Ron."

"Sorry," Ron said. "I know this is shocking and I'm sorry. But you know I would never cheat on Hermione."

Harry scowled at him. "So, why is he here? Did he come all this way just to meet you?"

Ron explained about Denis' summer job with Gringotts.

"Are you going to…is he…how is this going to work?" Ginny said.

Ron took a deep breath and then blew it out. "Well, we've already told Art and I'm planning on telling the rest of the family tomorrow at Sunday dinner."

Ginny's eye's widened. "Are you bringing him?"

"Of course not," Ron said. "How much contact he ends up having with the rest of the family will depend on what they want and what he wants. Mostly, I think he just wanted to meet me and this internship was his only opportunity. Honestly, you're probably the only member of the family that will see him on a regular basis because of where he's staying, but if that bothers you I can set him up at the Leaky Cauldron."

"No," Ginny said. "Of course not. So far, he's been a perfect guest. There's no reason to move him. Mum's going to go mental, you know that, right?"

Ron sighed. "Yeah, I reckon she will."

"She won't," Hermione said softly.

They all looked at her.

"Not with me sitting right there. I can't promise she won't tear you a new one the next time she gets you alone, but no one will go after you with me sitting there."

"She's right," Ginny said. "No one is going to say anything too brutal with Hermione there." She frowned. "Except me. So why didn't she tell you?"

"Well, aside from the fact that she lived in Nairobi and I lived in London, apparently she thought I was married. She didn't want her son to know she'd had an affair with a married man."

"Why would she think that if you weren't?" Ginny said pointedly.

"Because, I talk in my sleep sometimes."

"Yeah," Harry said. "You talk a lot of rubbish in your sleep, so what?"

"Apparently, I said Hermione's name and Ester assumed I was with her." He glanced over at Hermione whose eyes were still downcast but she had a slight smile on her face. Eager to keep her happy, Ron said, "And for the record that's why Michelle and a half a dozen other birds broke up with me, too."

The four of them talked for a few more minutes. Ron was relieved when Hermione said they should go. He could tell she was still amused that he'd called her name in his sleep the entire time they were broken up. The house was empty so Ron decided to try and wipe that smug smile off her face. "You come with me," he said, taking her hand and leading her up to their bedroom. He was a bit surprised when she didn't pull away, but he thought perhaps she thought, like he did, that they needed this. Even though the events leading to Denis' birth happened ages ago, it still couldn't have been easy for her to sit next to him as he explained it to Harry and Ginny. Knowing they'd have to go through it all again tomorrow was agonizing. He needed to put all that aside for a moment to reconnect with her. He winked at her. "You're entirely too pleased with yourself about me talking in my sleep."

Hermione chuckled.

"Laugh it up," he said as he closed the door behind him. He pulled her back against him and nuzzled her neck, kissing and gently biting. She sighed against him and he smiled. He pulled her thin summer T-shirt over her head and slid his hands up to unlatch her bra. She turned around in his arms and he leaned down to kiss her breasts as he unbuttoned her trousers, slipping them down with her kickers.

"Someone's in a hurry," Hermione said.

Ron scooped her up and laid her down on the bed. "Not really," he said, pulling his own T-shirt over his head.

When he lay down beside her, she reached for him, but he caught her hands. Holding her wrists firmly in his hand he pulled her arms over her head. "No touching for you today, cheeky girl."

"I don't—"

"No talking," Ron said, and covered her mouth with his. She squirmed beneath him and tried to pull her arms down. He held her tighter, familiar with this game. It wasn't until he found himself slammed against the wall and Hermione shouted, "Stop!" that he realized this wasn't their usual play.

She rolled out of bed and ran to him. "I'm so sorry. Are you alright?"

Slowly getting to his feet, Ron rubbed his head. "Bloody hell, Hermione."

"I'm so sorry," she repeated.

"What was that for?" He noticed she was rubbing her wrists and wanted to kick himself.

"Please don't hold my hands like that."

"I'm sorry," Ron said. "I didn't think. We've done that so many times, but I should have thought."

She shook her head. "No. No. It's fine. I should have said something from the start. I could see what kind of mood you were in. I thought I'd be okay. I'm sorry."

Ron sat down on the foot of the bed. "You don't have anything to be sorry for. I should have thought about what I was doing."

"I threw you across the room. I definitely need to be sorry about that."

Ron chuckled. Hermione wasn't a tiny woman by regular standards, but she was tiny compared to him, and she still wasn't back to her normal weight, not that it mattered. Her magic more than made up for her size. She'd blasted him across the room as if he were a feather. "I needed throwing. I'm okay. Are you okay?"

She nodded, but she was still rubbing her wrists. He took her hands in his. "Are you done here or would you like me to make love to you? Very slow, very gentle love, and you can put your hands where ever you like."

She nodded. "I think I'd like that."

"Me too."

xXx

Late that afternoon, Ron received two letters. The first was from Ester. She wrote that she was going back to Nairobi and that Denis would be staying in London for the summer. She apologized for not giving Ron the benefit of the doubt and telling him she was pregnant all those years ago. She concluded by saying she hoped that he and Denis could get to know each other. The second letter was from Denis asking if they could get together sometime the following week. Ron responded to Ester that he appreciated her letting Denis stay and to Denis with some suggested dates and times.

Art and Emma returned from their concert and Ron told everyone he was going out for a bit and he'd be back in a few hours. No one thought much of it when he took his broom. Ron liked to fly and would often fly just to clear his head if he was trying to figure out a thorny issue at work or sort through something that upset him. He thought it best not to mention to anyone that he was going to Dorset to see Viktor.

Ron knew where Viktor lived, but he'd never actually been to the house. It didn't take him long to find the stately home tucked into lush green lawns surrounded by thick woods. It was a home befitting an international Quidditch star turned winning coach. Viktor and Gabrielle lived there with their daughters. Ron landed on the lawn and walked up to the massive front door. As he did so, he contemplated what it would be like to live in a big place out by itself. He and Hermione could certainly afford a place like this, and yet they remained in her parent's old townhouse in London. The townhouse was big, but it wasn't a mansion. He couldn't help wondering if perhaps Hermione might like something a bit grander. He knocked on the door and a house elf opened it.

"Hi," Ron said, cheerily. "I'm Ron Weasley. I'm here to see Viktor Krum."

"You are not on the schedule, sir," the house elf said.

"No," Ron admitted. "But please tell Viktor I'm here and that I only need a few minutes of his time. It's a family matter."

"Wait here," the house elf said and disappeared.

Ron leaned his broom against the stone wall of the house and turned to look out over the broad front lawn. There was a fountain in the center and some topiary shaped like Snitches, Quaffles, Bludgers and hoops.

A few minutes later the door opened again, and Viktor stepped out, closing the door behind him. "Ron?"

"Hullo Viktor," Ron said.

"What's happened to her?" Viktor said without preamble.

"Nothing," Ron said. "She's fine. Well, mostly fine."

Viktor frowned.

"She put the memories back in."

Viktor raised his eyebrows. "After all this time? Why?"

"They were in bottles on the desk when Gabrielle—"

Viktor shook his head. "No."

"Yes," Ron said. "She was contemplating putting them back in and had them all out to try and decide which one to put in first."

"I don't understand," Viktor said. "She's gone without them all this time."

"Well, what happened at the Ministry got her thinking about what would have happened to those memories if she'd died."

Viktor nodded. "I see."

"Right," Ron continued. "So, for the first time she's having to live with what happened in Bulgaria."

"Ah," Viktor said. "So, why are you here?"

"I need to know what the medical report said. She says she asked you to burn it, but if it had been me, I would have read it first. I'm hoping you did that."

Viktor nodded. "I did."

"And?" Ron said.

Viktor looked away from him and out over the lovely garden. "From what the report said, they kept her bound and gagged and used her for target practice."

"What?" Ron said.

"Every conceivable jinx and hex as well as a few curses. She was barely recognizable as human when they brought her into the hospital in Sophia. It took a lot of counter-spells to put her right, and some of them were just guesses. She was on several potions for weeks afterwards."

Ron put a hand against the wall of the house for support and closed his eyes. "Bloody hell," he whispered. "At least you were there for her."

"Actually, Todor came and got her from the hospital and took care of her for the first few days, until I was released from the hospital. As I understand it, the Aurors came and took her memories the next day to try and identify the assailants."

"Right," Ron said. "So, she never lived with those memories." He pushed his fingers back through his hair. "I can't stand the thought of someone hurting her."

Viktor snorted.

Ron frowned at him. "You think this is funny?" There was dark edge to his voice as he rose to his full height.

"No." Viktor said, bristling. "Far from it. I just think that's odd coming from you."

Ron scowled at him. "What are you talking about?"

Viktor glared at him. "The first time I had sex with her she had a deep bruise across her bum that looked like someone had taken her against a table and was none too careful about the edges. There were bruises on her arms that looked like someone had held her down. Are you saying that wasn't you?"

"No, of course not. I would never…I always have my hands…" An image flashed in his mind of her against the table in their old flat above the twins' store. He shook his head.

Viktor gave him a withering look. "So, you're saying she was with someone between you and me. Someone cruel? Really? Hermione? I don't think so."

"Of course not," Ron said. "I…" He closed his eyes. "She told you?"

Viktor frowned. "No, but looking at her body that first night, I knew. She didn't have to tell me."

"Fuck," Ron said, he leaned back against the wall and slid down into a squat. He ran a hand down his face. "She must have hated me."

"I don't think so. She seemed mostly embarrassed that she'd let it happen," Viktor said.

"Why didn't she throw me off?"

"I wondered the same thing," Viktor said. "She is certainly formidable enough to handle you."

"And then some," Ron said. He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten all this.

"You know, while I wasn't that surprised that she left me, I was surprised that she went back to you."

Ron felt the statement like a physical blow. He rubbed his eyes. "I swear I've never hurt her like that again."

"Good," Viktor said grimly.

"I love her," Ron said without looking at him. "I feel like I've always loved her, like I was born loving her. You know what I mean?"

Viktor shook his head. "Not in regards Hermione. Granted, she is an extraordinary witch, but we were never that close. I think we both knew our relationship came with an expiration date. Stubbornness is probably what kept us together as long we were."

Ron looked at him.

"If Gabrielle left me," Viktor explained. "I would be devastated. When Hermione left, my pride was hurt more than my heart."

Ron cocked his head. "You didn't miss her?"

Viktor shrugged. "I missed some things about her: the easy side-along Apparition, the steady supply of Portkeys, some of the discussions, this and that."

Ron frowned at him. He was pretty sure he knew what this and that referred to.

Viktor shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away.

Ron felt sick. He got to his feet. "Look," he said. "I'm sorry to have come out here unannounced. Thank you for telling me about the medical report."

Viktor nodded.

Ron had initially intended to Apparate back home, but he decided to fly instead. Awful things were running through his mind and he needed to clear it.

xXx

As he flew through the darkening sky, Ron tried to think when things had gone so pear shaped. He tried to pinpoint when he'd gone from loving boyfriend to giant git, when he'd stopped making love to her to only fuck her instead. He had been so pleased when Fred and George offered him the flat over the store for low rent while he worked in their shop. Ron had been so excited to tell Hermione that they could move out of the Burrow and into their own place. She'd seemed happy, but in that subdued way she'd had since her parents were murdered. Crookshanks had been dead a week and was buried in the back garden at the Burrow, but Ron thought perhaps he could get her a kitten once they got settled and he had a few more Galleons in the bank. He had grand plans for their life together. He'd started saving for a ring. He had wanted so badly for them to have a normal life, to celebrate their survival, to be happy and whole again. But they hadn't been happy or whole, neither one of them. He had disappeared into a bottle and she had disappeared into the trials for the Department of Mysteries. At first, he'd been supportive of her desire to be an Unspeakable, but as the trials dragged on for months, he'd been more and more derisive about the whole process. She'd tried to explain that if they could just wait it out a few more months they would have more money coming in. Things wouldn't be so tight. Even if she didn't make Unspeakable, the magic she was learning would open a lot of doors for good paying jobs. Ron had felt that as a dig. He didn't make enough to support them. He wasn't good enough. He drank more; she worked harder. He got meaner; she got quieter. By the end of their relationship neither of them were themselves. That whole last night popped unbidden into his head and he had to land his broom for fear of falling off of it. Now that it had resurfaced, he couldn't stop remembering taking her against the table, not lifting her to make sure she was clear of the edge, just roughly pushing her against it. He remembered gripping her arms as he thrust. He remembered stumbling away from her and falling across the bed when he was done. He remembered waking up with her on top of him, kissing him, slowly, gently, like she was memorizing every inch of him, and maybe she had been, because she didn't touch him again for three years. A shiver ran through him. He closed his eyes and Apparated home.

xXx

When Ron appeared in the foyer, he could hear Hermione talking to Art and Emma.

"No," she was saying. "Don't think about your wand. Think about the magic. See the wound closing."

"I'm trying," Art said. Ron could hear the frustration in his voice. "Besides, it's just a pinprick. I'm not sure it counts as a wound."

"Baby steps, Arthur," his mother said.

"So, you're telling me, if you had a bleeding gash, you could close it on your own with a wandless nonverbal Episkey," Art said, disbelief obvious in his tone.

"Depending on where it was and how bad it was, yes."

"Bollocks," Art huffed.

Ron knew what was coming and couldn't get into the room fast enough. As he was saying, "Don't!" he heard Hermione say, "Diffindo," and saw a cut appear on her forearm. Blood began to drip on to the floor.

"Dammit, Hermione!" Ron shouted.

She blinked and the wound closed.

"Bloody hell, Mum," Art said as Emma gasped next to him.

"Language Arthur," Hermione admonished. "It's a very useful spell. Practice. You might need it one day to heal yourself or someone else in a situation when you need to stay quiet." She cast a cleaning charm on the floor where the blood had dripped.

"Hermione," Ron said softly.

"What?" she said. "He doesn't believe half of what I say unless he sees it for himself."

Ron just shook his head.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked. "You're quite pale."

"I'm fine," Ron said. "My wife is crazy, but I'm fine."

She frowned at him. "He asked me to show him my most useful wandless non-verbals. Episkey is very useful."

"When did you learn to do that one?" Ron asked, grimly.

Hermione shrugged. "Ages ago."

"Why?"

"What?" Hermione asked, confused by his tone and sudden interest.

"Why did you learn it to do it wandlessly?"

She shifted her weight to her other foot. "I don't know. Why do I learn anything? I just wanted to know. It's useful."

Ron shook his head. "When exactly did you learn to do it wandlessly?"

"I don't know what you're getting at, but I don't remember."

Ron frowned at her. "I think you do and I think you know exactly why you learned it."

Art's eyes shifted from parent to parent and then to Emma, whose eyes were wide with anxiety. "I think we'll go downstairs to practice in the library," Art said. He and Emma couldn't get out of the room fast enough.

Hermione shook her head. "What's gotten into you?"

"I went to see Viktor."

"You what?" Hermione said, surprise registering on her face.

"I wanted to know what that medical report said."

Hermione sighed. She sat down in one of the wing chairs. "I wish you hadn't done that."

"Why? I wanted to know, so I wouldn't do anything else to upset you."

"I told you, I don't remember all that. It's just the binding that bothers me. I'm sorry about this afternoon."

"Don't," Ron said. "Don't say you're sorry."

"But I am," Hermione said, confused by the sudden fierceness of his words.

"But you shouldn't be. Why didn't you stop me before?"

Now Hermione was completely confused. "Before what?"

"When we were together," Ron said.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione said. It was clear from his pained expression that he was very upset.

"When we lived above the shop. When things went bad. Why didn't you stop me then? I know you could have. Did you just heal yourself and keep going?"

Hermione's mouth dropped open, and for a moment she didn't speak. Finally, she said softly, "Ron, that was twenty years ago. Why are you bringing it up now?"

"Did you?"

She blew out a calming breath and answered honestly. "Sometimes."

Ron dropped to his knees in front of her. "Why didn't you cast me off? Why would you let me hurt you?"

Hermione looked up at the ceiling and then closed her eyes. "I thought if I did that, it would destroy us. You weren't yourself. I wasn't myself. I thought if we could just get through it, we'd be okay."

Ron put his head in her lap and wrapped his arms around her hips. "You should have stopped me," he whispered.

She sighed. "It was a long time ago. I don't understand what brought this up."

"It was me," Ron said, his head still in her lap. He wouldn't look at her.

"I don't understand," Hermione said, running her fingers through his hair.

"I told Viktor I couldn't stand the thought of someone hurting you and he snorted at me, which pissed me off. I thought he was implying you deserved it or something, but of course that's not what he meant at all."

Hermione's hand stopped moving and Ron could feel her stiffen.

"When I said something, he said the first time you two had sex you had a deep bruise across your bum from being taken up against the edge of something and then I remembered, I did that."

Hermione pushed him off her lap and stood. "I will kill him."

Ron, still on his knees, looked up at her. "But by then you could do a wandless non-verbal Episkey, so why didn't you heal that bruise?"

She pressed a hand over her eyes and didn't say anything.

"Hermione?"

"This is ridiculous. It's ancient history. I'm not talking about this anymore," she stormed out of the room and Ron got to his feet and followed her. "Hermione," he called after her.

She stopped in the hallway and turned on him. "We just found out you have another son. I just realized that you apparently fucked every single available witch in the magical world. That's enough to deal with without bringing up all this rubbish from ages ago!"

"I didn't fuck every available witch," Ron said meekly.

"What?" Hermione shouted.

"No one from our year in Gryffindor and no one from Dumbledore's Army."

She gave him a withering glare. "So, I'm to be what? Impressed that you denied yourself maybe twenty women."

Ron shook his head. "No. I just wanted you to know I didn't sleep with your friends."

Hermione laughed. "My friends? Let's see, one of my friends is your sister, so good job there. And my other friend you most certainly did sleep with and so did I."

Ron's face went crimson and his mouth dropped open. "That's not fair!"

"We're being fair now?" Hermione shrieked. "You just talked to Viktor about sex with me! That is so…so…atrociously wrong!"

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

She screamed at him in frustration and stormed upstairs, the air crackling around her. This time he didn't follow for fear of the repercussions.

"Dad?" he heard Art's voice behind him. "Emma and I are going back home."

"Good idea, son," Ron said without turning around.

xXx

Ron gave Hermione two hours before he ventured upstairs to their bedroom to try and talk to her, but he found their bedroom door sealed with both locking and silencing charms. He returned to the parlor. At dinnertime, Winky brought him beans on toast, but he didn't eat much of it. Hermione didn't come down for dinner at all, and as far as he knew, she hadn't called Winky to bring her anything.

It was midnight, when he heard her come downstairs. He didn't go to her, since he thought she might just be interested in getting a snack in the kitchen, so he was surprised when she came into the parlor. She leaned against the doorjamb. "I left you, because you told me to go. I didn't heal the bruises, so I wouldn't go back. Not being able to sit down without pain is a very good deterrent."

Ron nodded. "I'm so sorry."

Hermione turned to go.

"Hermione," Ron said.

She turned back around.

"Why on earth did you ever come back to me?"

She sighed. "I wanted you back. Not whoever that was those last few weeks. As long as you were that prat, I had no interest in being with you. Viktor and I may have had our issues, but it was better than living with you in that flat over the twins' shop."

"How did you know I wasn't still that prat? How did you know it wouldn't start all over again?"

"Because you were sober at Harry and Ginny's wedding. You brought that girl, but you were sober. You were also sober at Seamus and Lavender's wedding. You were insufferable, complaining about my smoking, but you were sober. I was drunk for all of that, but you were sober. Then when you showed up at Harry's, when Viktor and I were having dinner with him, you apologized, and although I pretended not to, I knew exactly what you were apologizing for. You'd never done that. Finally, at Christmas, after we'd spent the night shagging and you were so…well…you were you again. We were almost us…and I thought…maybe…just maybe…and then there you were with that ring and the things you said…and I felt safe again. And I was right, because in all this time, you've never once…" She shook her head.

"You didn't leave Viktor for me," Ron said quietly.

"I never said I did."

"Then why?"

"Because we were done. The surprising thing is that it lasted as long as it did. If all the things that happened early on hadn't happened, I doubt we would have lasted six months. But they did happen and…" She shook her head. "He has a strong sense of duty and he's very paternal in many ways. I needed that for a while, but as I got stronger, I started to chafe against it. In the end, I left Viktor for me. The fact that I got back together with you was a happy accident."

Ron nodded. "I'm so sorry."

"You've said that repeatedly. I believe you. I forgive you. I forgave you for all of this a long time ago. Dredging it up now is…unnecessarily cruel to both of us."

"I wish you'd thrown me into a wall twenty years ago. I really do."

"I wasn't strong enough then. I mean, I had the magic. I just didn't have the heart." Every time she'd considered it, she'd see him take that curse for her. The one that knocked him out, split his face open, left him unconscious in the hospital for weeks and muddleheaded for months after. She could still see the white of his jawbone and all the blood.

Ron looked up at her. "I love you so much. I can't tell you how grateful I am that you were willing to give me another chance."

Hermione nodded. "No need. I know exactly how you feel."

He stood. "Can I?" He held his arms open.

She nodded and stepped into them. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head and pulled her closer.

"I hate it when we argue," Ron whispered into her hair.

She nodded against his chest. "Me too."

"I think we're going to need to see Art tomorrow," Ron said.

Hermione looked up at him. "Oh?"

Ron cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I think he and Emma might have caught the tail end of our hallway argument."

Hermione pressed her forehead to his chest. "Bloody hell."

He chuckled with embarrassment into her hair and then she started to laugh. When they had both settled down, Hermione said, "Seriously though, how much do you think they heard?"

"I don't know, but let's hope it wasn't much."

"Right," Hermione said, a sick feeling forming in her stomach.

xXx

That night, Ron kept waking up to disturbing dreams about hurting Hermione. Every time he would doze off he would be back in that flat over the shop. He sat up, breathing hard and wiped his face with a shaky hand. Hermione stirred next to him.

"What's wrong?"

"I just keep remembering times I think I hurt you."

She sighed and sat up. "It was a long time ago."

"I just don't understand why I would do that. I love you. I loved you then."

"Do you remember what you said to me after Todor's funeral?"

He shook his head.

"Not surprising. You were quite drunk."

He looked at her in alarm. "Did I—"

"No. Of course not. But you said, 'they hurt us bad and then we hurt each other' and that's exactly what happened."

"But you didn't hurt me," he said, shaking his head.

"I did. Maybe not physically, but I shut down and I shut you out. Almost every day for years, you and I talked. We talked about everything, but then at the end of the war," she shook her head. "I just didn't have the words anymore. It broke me, Ron."

"I know," he said softly. "I should have been there for you. I should have helped you."

"You couldn't." She took his hand. "You were broken too."

"I should have been stronger than that."

"Really?"

"Harry and Ginny got through it intact."

Hermione smiled. "But they aren't us and according to both of them it wasn't as easy as it may have looked from the outside."

"But they did it. He didn't take his problems out on her."

"No, but she didn't shut him out either. Sometimes, I didn't speak at all for days."

"I know," Ron said. "But you never turned me down when I wanted to touch you, so I thought maybe we were okay and you just needed time."

She nodded. "I know. I thought so too."

"But then it just seemed to get worse."

"I know."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "I just couldn't pull out of it. Why it didn't occur to me then to go get help, I don't know. Instead, I focused all my energies on trying to be an Unspeakable, because it felt like magic was the only thing I really understood. Everything else seemed to be crumbling around me."

Ron nodded. "I felt like that too, only I didn't have the Department of Mysteries to focus on."

"So, you drank."

"Right," Ron whispered. "And when I drank—"

"Sometimes you got mean," Hermione whispered back.

"I'm so sorry."

She sighed. "It was such a long time ago and since then you've been a kind and loving husband and father. I'm sorry all this got dredged up for you, but it's in the past." She slid back under the covers, snuggled next to him, and kissed his chest. "Let's leave it there."


	3. Running the Guantlet

**Running the Gauntlet**

Early the next morning, Ron sent an owl to Art and Emma inviting them both for breakfast, so he and Hermione were surprised when Art showed up alone.

"Is Emma not feeling well?" Hermione asked.

"She's fine, but she decided to stay home and get revisions done."

Hermione raised her eyebrows and Art's cheeks went pink. "We upset her with our arguing yesterday," she said to Ron.

Ron nodded. "Sorry son."

"Yeah," Art said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah."

Ron sighed. "Can we talk about this before breakfast? I've got other awkward conversations I've got to have today."

Art glanced from one of them to the other and then looked at his feet.

"Okay," Hermione said. "What did you hear?"

"Um," Art said. "Well, I guess I was walking upstairs when Dad said he didn't sleep with your friends."

"Oh," Hermione said. "Okay."

"And then you said—"

"I know what I said." She looked at Ron whose eyes were huge. She sighed. "Do you know what the Poacher's Curse is?" she asked Art.

"Hermione?" Ron said, alarmed.

"What?" she said, turning to him. "Do you want him imagining something worse or do you want to just tell him the truth?"

Ron shook his head. "I don't want to have this conversation at all."

"So, what? Memory charm?" Hermione asked.

"Maybe," Ron said.

"What?" Art shouted. "Absolutely not!"

Hermione looked at Ron.

"Fine," Ron said.

"Go look it up," Hermione said to Art. "Go look it up and understand this: that it was done to us, it was a violation, and it could have been a lot worse if say some other animal had been caught in the same spell, like a deer, or a bear, which is what it was originally designed for. The Poacher's curse is very dark magic and over the centuries has resulted in some horrific deaths."

Art nodded. "All right."

Hermione sighed. "Did Emma also hear our argument?"

"No, I walked upstairs to see if the coast was clear. She was still in the library."

"Good," Ron said.

"This probably goes without saying, but I would prefer if you didn't share that particular piece of information with anyone, even Emma, assuming you haven't already."

Art shook his head. "I haven't. I wouldn't. I wish I didn't know."

Ron nodded. "Us too."

Hermione looked from her husband to her son. They both had red ears. "Let's eat," she said. "I'm famished."

Breakfast started off awkwardly as Winky put a full English in front of each of them. There were three copies of _The Daily Prophet_ in the center of the table. They each reached for one. After a few moments of reading, Ron said, "Are they seriously talking about substandard cauldrons again?"

Hermione chuckled.

Ron turned to her. "I bet you a hundred Galleons Percy is involved."

"Why would Uncle Percy be involved?" Art asked.

"His first job at the Ministry," Ron said.

Hermione smiled as Ron told Art about Percy's early obsession with cauldron thickness and how he'd puffed himself up over the issue. She continued to scan the rest of the paper until she reached the gossip column. "Shit," she exclaimed.

Ron and Art both put down their papers and stared at her.

"You're mentioned on page six," she said to Ron.

"What?" Art asked.

Ron flipped through the paper to the gossip column. "Bloody hell!"

Art scanned the page as well. At the top was a blurb that said simply 'Is this man Ron Weasley's love child?" Below that was a picture of Denis taken on the street. There was no additional information just the question and the photo.

"That's just great," Ron said, slamming the paper down on the table.

Hermione sighed. "It's not as if you're weren't already planning to talk to the rest of the family today anyway."

"Yeah, I know, but I wanted to do it on my terms, not _The Daily Prophet's._ "

Art shook his head and stood. "I should go."

Hermione stood and kissed his cheek.

"Bye son," Ron said and they watched him disappear.

Hermione looked at him sympathetically. "I guess it's time."

Ron sighed. "Right. Let's go tell the family I have another son." They both Disapparated to the Burrow.

xXx

They spent the day helping Molly with things that needed to be done around the property. She never mentioned the gossip column and Ron decided not to bring it up either. He wanted to wait until after dinner while the family was still sitting around the table to tell everyone about Denis. At least this was the sibling only dinner. His mother had decided years ago that Sunday dinner with the entire family every week was too much. Now one Sunday a month was the entire family, one Sunday was just siblings and spouses, one Sunday was just grandchildren and one Sunday was now just great grandchildren.

Once again, as Ron began to explain the situation, Hermione kept her eyes down and her mouth shut. When Ron was finished with his explanation a hush fell over the table.

Finally, Molly spoke. "So that poor boy has been without a father all this time."

"No," Ron said. "Ester married someone when he was little. Sounds like he had a really great dad."

"Well, that's good then," Molly said.

"So," Bill said. "He'll be here all summer?"

"Until the end of July," Ron said.

"Will you be bringing him to Sunday dinner then?" Bill asked.

All eyes turned to Ron for his answer.

"If it's okay with all of you and it's okay with him, then yes, I'd like to do that."

Molly looked at Hermione. "Are you alright, dear? You haven't said anything."

Hermione smiled at her. "I'm fine. If you all want to meet him, and you should, he's a lovely young man, it's fine with me."

"So, you've met him then," Angelina said.

"Yes. He actually bears a remarkable resemblance to your John, but his personality reminds me more of Art."

Everyone gave her sympathetic looks.

Hermione smiled again. "Look, I'm not angry about this. We weren't together when it happened. Ron wasn't told. It is what it is."

The others began to look at each other as if trying to gage if they thought she was being truthful.

"So," Ron said. "How does everyone feel about meeting him? Mum?"

"Well," Molly said. "If he's family, he's family. I reckon he's welcome to come to Sunday dinner."

The rest of the family took their cues from Molly and agreed.

"Great," Ron said. "Then I'll ask him if he'd like to come next Sunday."

"What are you going to do about the gossip column?" George asked.

"Nothing," Ron said. "I can't control what they print."

"Right," Fred said, "but you're going to have reporters trying to get to the truth of it."

Ron glanced at Hermione.

"There's no point in denying it," she said. "Why would you want to do that anyway? He is your son."

"Right," Ron said with a sigh.

"Excuse me," Hermione said, rising from her seat. She went in the house to use the loo. When she came out she noticed the door to Ginny's old room was open and went inside. This was the room she'd always slept in at the Burrow until after the war. She went to the window and looked out over the gardens on the opposite side of the house from where everyone was at the table. A few gnomes shuffled around in the vegetable patch.

"Hey," she heard Ginny say. She turned to look and Ginny shut the door behind her. "How are you holding up?"

Hermione turned back to the window. "I'm fine. If you think about it, it's nothing to do with me really."

"Come on," Ginny said sympathetically behind her. "It's me."

Hermione couldn't look at her as she wiped a stray tear from her cheek. "I'm happy for him. He always wanted more children. I know it's not the same as if he'd been involved the whole time, but this is better than nothing."

"He didn't have nothing. He had Art and he had you."

Hermione sniffled. "I know. But he wanted more children and I couldn't give them to him."

Ginny put a hand on her shoulder. "I assure you, Ron is thrilled with the life the two of you made. He doesn't want for anything."

"He wanted more children and so did I," Hermione said quietly. "Not as many as Fred and Angelina—"

Ginny snorted. "Because that would be mad."

"But two or three," Hermione said. "So, Art wouldn't be alone like I was. I wanted him to have siblings."

"Clive and Devin are like brothers to him," Ginny said. "You know that. The three of them are thick as thieves."

Hermione nodded. "I know. Don't mind me. I'm just wallowing in self-pity. It'll pass. It's just with all those women, I can't help wondering if Denis is the only other child he has."

"Ah," Ginny said. "Well, it doesn't matter. None of those women could hold a candle to you."

Hermione looked at her, arching an eyebrow. "Oh please, did you see Ester."

Ginny shook her head. "No."

"She's incredibly beautiful and she's high in the Kenyan Ministry of Magic. She's like my healer, Michelle Cabrera, smart and beautiful. I'm lucky he didn't marry one of them and have a half a dozen kids."

Ginny smiled. "But that couldn't happen could it? Because he never stopped dreaming of you."

Hermione shook her head. "What the hell was wrong with him?"

Ginny chuckled. "Same thing that's wrong with all of us when we're in love."

"Yeah, I guess." Hermione smiled.

Ginny gave her a mischievous look. "So, you never woke Viktor calling Ron's name?"

Hermione snorted. "I don't talk in my sleep."

"Smart," Ginny said. "We should head back down before someone comes looking for us." Hermione nodded and followed her.

xXx

She and Ron didn't stay long after that. They were both exhausted, so they Apparated back to London.

"Do you want some tea?" she asked as they reappeared in the kitchen.

He shook his head. "I'm going to go downstairs for a bit."

Hermione asked Winky for a cup of tea and some biscuits before she followed Ron. She assumed that when Ron said he was going downstairs, he'd meant to his workshop, so she was surprised to find him standing next to the large globe in the library with his wand out and a spell book open.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I've got to know if there are any others," Ron said. "Revelio Conceptus."

"Wait," Hermione said, "That's not—" but it was too late. Five glowing lights appeared on the globe, three in the UK, one in France, and one in Kenya. One of the UK lights and the Kenyan light were green. The other three were red.

"I don't understand," Ron said.

Hermione sighed. "The spell you wanted was Revelio Paternitas."

Ron shook his head. "I don't—"

"The green lights are Art and Denis."

"But." His mouth dropped open. "Does that mean? Shit." He sat down on one of the overstuffed reading chairs.

"It doesn't necessarily mean anything," Hermione said gently. "The pregnancies might not have been viable and were just reabsorbed or they were miscarriages—"

"Or they were aborted," he said. "I'm a monster."

"No, you're not. That spell is a blunt tool, it doesn't tell you the details."

"I was," Ron said. "Otherwise those women would have told me they were pregnant. What was wrong with me? I thought I always remembered the charm."

"Mistakes happen, Ron. Like I said—"

"Stop it!" he snapped.

"Stop what?" she said, taken aback.

"Stop making excuses for me."

Hermione shook her head sympathetically. "Ron—"

"No seriously," he said scowling at her. "Why do you do that? You're always so quick to absolve me of responsibility, but you never forgive yourself. Why is that?"

"I love you," she said simply.

"But you don't love yourself?"

Her mouth dropped open. "Well, I…"

"That's it, isn't it?" Ron insisted.

She stood there blinking at him. "I don't hate myself," she finally answered.

"Anymore," Ron finished for her.

She shook her head. "No. Not anymore."

He sighed. "What was the plan that night you ran into Viktor."

"What?" Hermione said, thrown by the question.

He looked up at her with red rimmed eyes. "Seriously. What was the plan?"

"What did Harry say to you?" Hermione whispered, shocked that Harry had said anything at all about this to Ron.

"He told me you were thinking of offing yourself. Is that true?"

She sat on the edge of the other reading chair. "I don't know. Maybe."

"But you had a plan?"

She didn't look at him. "Yes."

"What was it?" Ron asked.

She shook her head.

"Tell me," he insisted.

She glanced at him and then closed her eyes. "I considered getting drunk on Christmas morning and slitting my wrists in the tub."

Ron swallowed hard. "Bloody hell, Hermione."

"Who knows if I would have gone through with it?"

He reached for her hand and gripped it tight. "When have you ever not followed a plan unless a better one came along?"

She blinked at him.

"Viktor was the better plan," Ron said for her.

"Yes," Hermione agreed.

"You slept with him that night, right?"

Hermione sighed. "Very early Christmas morning actually. It's not like he was a stranger. We dated for the last half of fourth year and corresponded for years after."

Ron nodded. "I know. I'm not judging. What you did was a damn sight better than what I did. Once I dried out I just substituted sex for alcohol."

Hermione shook her head. "You did what you needed to do to get through it. I did what I needed to do. We both made mistakes, hurt ourselves, and other people, but we survived. And better still, miracle of miracles, we found our way back to each other."

Ron smiled. "That made Harry so happy."

Hermione chuckled. They both said at the same time, "And that's the most important thing." They chuckled.

Ron sobered. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Hermione said.

"Why were you so different with him? You went out, danced, partied. You wouldn't do any of that with me."

Hermione sighed. "Lots of reasons."

"Like?" Ron prompted.

"Like, when you and I were together I was still in the trials for the Department of Mysteries. I was swamped with studying. The trials were already over when I started dating Viktor."

"Okay," Ron said. "What else?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't want to get into this."

"I think we need to. I think it's been unsaid for too long. I think it's time you put some of the blame on me, Hermione. You've carried it alone all these years. Tell the truth."

She frowned at him. "Fine. Viktor never stopped to get drunk on his way home and then came in and insisted I go back out with him."

Ron nodded. "Right. What else?"

"Ron," Hermione said.

"What else?"

She blew out a frustrated breath. "I felt like part of the reason I lost you was because I shut down. I didn't want to make the same mistake twice."

"That makes sense," Ron said. "What else?"

"What do you mean what else? Nothing else."

He cocked his head. "Come on. Even I know the biggest reason and you haven't said it yet."

She clenched her teeth.

"Say it," Ron said. "It was twenty years ago. We were barely out of puberty. We'd been through a war and suffered horribly for it. We sacrificed ourselves for each other and for Harry. And in the process saved the world. We have a solid marriage. We've raised a son together. We're strong. It's just us here. You can say it."

A tear slipped down her cheek. "I could go out with Viktor because I trusted him not to get out of control…"

Ron looked at her willing her to say it out loud.

"And because he never hurt me," she finished.

Ron blew out a long slow breath. "There it is."

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose and then rubbed her temples. "Why exactly is it so important to you that I say all this?"

He squeezed her hand again. "Because you never have. Not to me. Not to anyone else. All those years you let the papers say all those awful things about you, when one simple interview would have gotten them off of your back and on to mine."

"You don't know that it would have worked out like that," she said.

"But you didn't even try to explain your actions."

She frowned at him. "And neither did you."

Ron shook his head. "No. No, I didn't. I should have. I should have said that I was a great prat, a drunk, and an asshole, but I didn't. I didn't even tell the family, although if they didn't know before, after Harry and Ginny's wedding, they knew that you didn't just walk away."

"I would never do that," she said softly.

"I know," he said. "The day after the wedding when George came home he gave me such a bollocking things got physical."

Hermione looked up. "What did he say?"

Ron shrugged. "Nothing specific. He came home that morning, Harry and Ginny had already left on their honeymoon and the rest of the family was having breakfast and he tore into me. He kept saying 'what did you do' over and over again."

Hermione wouldn't look at him. "What did you say?"

"I told him to mind his own bloody business and then I shoved him and things got pretty rough. It took the other four to break us up."

"I didn't tell George anything about what went on between you and me," Hermione said.

"Are you sure?" Ron asked. "You were pretty drunk."

"I'm positive," Hermione said firmly.

Ron sighed. "I should have taken you home myself, but I had Willa to deal with and I'd already been so awful to her at the wedding, I couldn't leave her to make her own way home."

"How gallant," Hermione said dryly.

Ron snorted. "He was really cross with me for a long time whenever you were mentioned."

Hermione smiled. "I always have liked George."

"So, what happened?" Ron asked.

"Nothing exciting. I really couldn't hold my liqueur back then. We took the Floo here and when we stepped out of the fireplace I promptly threw up. He had his hands full getting me upstairs and into bed.

Ron raised his eyebrows.

"Oh please," Hermione said. "He took my shoes off and got me a gown before he went home." She blushed slightly.

Ron sighed. "I should have fessed up when George asked. I should have gone and gotten you and explained that the drinking was under control and that I would never…" He shook his head. "I wasted so much time being such a bloody coward."

Hermione shook her head. "Don't do that. Don't second guess. If you'd done that then, we might not have been ready. It might've wrecked everything for good. It happened the way it happened because we were both ready for it. That's all that matters."

Ron stood and stretched his back and ran his fingers through his hair. Hermione stood too. He reached for her hand and she stepped into a hug. He held her tight, resting his cheek on top of her head and feeling how small she was compared to him. It made him sick to think he'd ever hurt her. It bothered him that he'd buried it so deep he hadn't thought about it in years and had gone on as though it had never happened. He kissed the top of her head. "Can we please go to bed?"

She looked up at him and smiled. "Of course."

He took her hand and she followed him upstairs.

xXx

The next morning, Ron suggested breakfast at the Leaky Cauldron before work. The Leaky Cauldron banned reporters from bothering patrons, so it was merely a matter of running the gauntlet outside to avoid them. They were early and the Inn wasn't busy when they arrived. Since no one knew they were coming there were no reporters waiting and they were seated immediately. Margaret, a waitress who'd worked there for years, brought them a couple of menus and poured them each a cup of tea.

"How are you two this morning?" she asked.

"Fine," Ron said smiling at her. She smiled back. Hermione noticed the exchange and looked at Ron who was looking at the menu. As if he could feel her eyes on him, he lowered the menu and looked at her. "What?"

Hermione frowned at him. "You slept with her."

His eyebrows shot up. "Well…"

"She's been serving us meals for years and you never thought to mention that you'd seen her naked."

"Um," Ron said. "Well…"

Hermione slowly looked around the rest of the room. Other people had started to come in. A lot of them were roughly their age. She looked back at him. "How many of these people have you slept with?"

"People?" Ron sputtered. "None of the men, Hermione."

She rolled her eyes.

"That was a curse," he hissed.

"Whatever," she grumbled. "Fine, how many of these women."

Ron opened his menu again and glued his eyes to it. His ears were crimson.

"So many you can't even look?" Hermione said incredulously. "That's," she leaned back in her chair and looked around the room. "Wow."

"It wasn't about me," Ron grumbled, still not looking up.

"Oh really? Who was it about then?"

"Harry," Ron said flatly.

"Harry?" Hermione said, cocking her head. "Harry made you sleep with loads of women. How's that exactly?"

"He wouldn't sleep with them. He only wanted Ginny. So, there were all these women desperate to sleep with the great Harry Potter only he wasn't having any of them."

"And there you were," Hermione finished for him.

"Right," Ron said. "There I was."

"So, for three years, you just took Harry's cast-offs?" she said, frowning at him.

"Not always. I do have my own merits."

She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Well, that's just great. Now every time I go into a shop I'm going to be wondering if you slept with the woman at the till."

Ron didn't say anything.

"Oh, for heaven's sake." She stood and stormed out.

He sat quietly finishing his coffee before he followed her out. He left more than enough Galleons on the table to cover the check.

xXx

Someone must have informed _The Daily Prophet_ that she and Ron were eating at the Leaky Cauldron because there was a reporter and a photographer waiting outside. Hermione frowned and Disapparated to the Ministry of Magic's main entrance.

Ron was not so lucky. He had his mind on other things and just walked right out the front door of the Cauldron without noticing who was waiting.

"Ron!" the reporter said. "Can you tell us more about your first son?"

He sighed and started to push forward. He was a big enough man to plow through just about anything, but instead, he stopped and faced the reporter. "He's a great guy."

"So, you're not denying he's your son?" the reporter asked, clearly shocked.

"No. Why would I?"

"Er," the reporter didn't have a response for that. Before he could recover, Ron told him to have a nice day and walked down the street to his shop.


	4. An Explanation Not an Excuse

Ron lingered for an hour after closing, not because he had to, but because he hadn't worked out what to say to Hermione when he got home. He wanted to explain but he didn't want to make the situation worse. Finally, when he couldn't come up with any other excuses to delay, he Disapparated and returned home to find her in the parlor staring at the fire.

"Hey," he said, coming into the parlor from the kitchen. "How was work?"

"Uneventful," she said without looking up.

"Good. It's a bloody nightmare when your work is eventful." That got him a half smile.

He sat down in the other wing chair and sighed. There was nothing to do but go ahead and get into it. Small talk wasn't going to get him where he wanted to be. "Do you remember what you said to me at the World Cup?"

She looked at him. "What I said about what?"

"What went on in Amsterdam."

She frowned. "Not specifically."

"You said, 'I'm not proud of it, but it happened. I can't take it back and I can't change it. I've learned to live with that. The question is, can you?' So, I guess now I have to ask you the same thing."

She blew out a long, frustrated breath. "I'm not planning on leaving you if that's what you're asking. I just…I guess I'm trying to wrap my head around the scope of it. I mean, I saw the gossip columns. I assumed you were sleeping with some of those women. I just didn't realize it was all of them."

He frowned. "It wasn't all of them. It was some of them. Honestly, I had a lot of short relationships. I'd go out with a woman for a couple of weeks, or a month or so. Inevitably, you would ruin it."

She arched an eyebrow at him.

"I talk in my sleep, remember?"

She snorted.

"And there were some one-night stands, but sometimes I'd have a one-night stand and then a few weeks later do the same thing with the same witch. There were women I just hooked up with whenever we were both available."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Let me guess. The waitress this morning was one of those women."

He blushed. "Yeah."

Hermione shook her head. "Great."

"I know," Ron said, sighing. "It's like I told you before, I substituted sex for alcohol."

Hermione rubbed her temples with her fingertips, trying to ease the tension headache that was starting. She didn't know how to feel. On the one hand, she understood the desperation to push away the pain and if Ron used sex to do that, well, she understood that too. Although, she hadn't done it with quite so many partners, she'd certainly done it. On the other hand, she felt like a fool. How many women did she encounter on a regular basis that had slept with her husband? She knew he wasn't her husband at the time and that it wasn't fair to think of it that way, but it still felt like he'd lied to her somehow. If only the magical community was larger, or if Ron wasn't such a pure blood nutter who never mixed with Muggles, it wouldn't feel so personal. All those women diffused through the entire UK population or even just London's wouldn't feel so invasive, but in the magical community, there just weren't that many people. It felt like he'd slept with every woman their age in the British Isles. She blew out a frustrated breath.

"What?" he said quietly.

"I'm just trying to get my thoughts and feelings sorted. That's all."

He cleared his throat. "Look, it's not like I went around bragging or anything. I'm not proud of my behavior. I'm not ashamed of all of it either, but I'm definitely ashamed of some of it. My relationship with the woman I brought to Harry and Ginny's wedding was…well…it was just horrible. She thought we really had something and I was just trying to get back at you." He shook his head. "I'm deeply ashamed of what happened with her. After her, I didn't do that. I didn't even attempt a real relationship again until I started dating Michelle almost two years later. In between, I made sure every woman I was with understood that I wasn't looking for anything serious. If they were okay with that and just wanted to have fun, then I was fine with that. If they wanted more, I didn't engage, which still makes me a rake, but at least I was an honest rake."

"Were you ever...rough with any of them?" The question surprised her as much as it did him and it hung between them for a moment.

"No," Ron said.

She wasn't sure why that hurt to hear. "So only me then."

He closed his eyes and nodded. When he opened his eyes again, they were glassy with unshed tears. "Only you."

She looked away from him, blinking back her own tears. "Good."

"There's nothing good about it." He sniffled behind her and she turned to see him weeping into his hands. She sat there without touching him and cried silently next to him.

Ron wiped his face on his shirt sleeve. "The truth is, you've had the best and the worst of me. It's all yours. I'm sorry I've burdened you with the worst of me, but I swear I've spent our entire marriage trying to make it up to you."

She wiped her face with her hands. "I know and I appreciate that. I really do. I'm just…this has been an exceptionally bad week in what has been an exceptionally good marriage. We'll get past this. I just need a little time to sit with it."

"Do I need to sleep in the guest room?" he asked, wrinkling his forehead in concern.

She smiled. "It's not as bad as all that."

Relief came over his face. "Good. I don't like to think of you sleeping alone right now."

Hermione nodded. The nightmares were brutal. "Me either."

xXx

That night, Hermione woke from a nightmare that, once again, left her fleeing the room. Ron grabbed dressing gowns and went after her. He found her pacing in the living room in front of the fireplace. He held out her dressing gown and she shrugged it on.

"I have got to get a grip," she said breathlessly. "I can't keep waking up like this. I can't keep waking you. We've both got work in the morning."

Ron pulled on his own dressing gown and sat down on the sofa. "You can wake me as often as you need to."

She blew out a frustrated breath and resumed pacing. "I don't want to. I'm sick of this. It was so hard to get to where we are now. I feel like I've been dragged backwards."

"What can I do?" Ron said softly.

"Nothing," she said blinking back tears. "There's nothing to be done. I just have to wait it out. How am I supposed to do that?"

"How did you do it before?" Ron asked, but then instantly regretted it. He already knew the answer.

"Well, I didn't do it sober," she cried and dissolved into a kind of desperate weeping. Ron stood and took her in his arms and held her as she sobbed against his chest.

Hermione didn't notice, but Ron heard the sound of someone Apparating into the kitchen. Only two other people could do that unannounced: Art and Harry.

Ron turned to see Art come into the parlor. He looked cross until he saw his parents and the state of his mother. "What's happened?"

Hermione stiffened in Ron's arms. She quickly wiped her face and backed away from him. "Art, what are you doing here. It's after midnight."

"Emma and I had a row and I thought we could do with some space."

Hermione cleared her throat. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"What's wrong," Art said.

She shook her head. "Nothing."

Ron and Art both gave her incredulous looks.

"I had a nightmare. It was upsetting. What did you and Emma row about?"

He quirked his lips, clearly trying to decide how to answer. After a moment, he looked at Ron and said, "About whether or not I should meet your other son." He looked back at his mother. "What are you having nightmares about?"

Hermione twisted her lips in exactly the same way Art had. If it hadn't been such a tense moment, Ron would have laughed. The two of them were so similar sometimes it was startling. She cleared her throat again. "Those memories you found in my potions cabinet. I put them back in my head."

"Oh," Art said. "Why?"

Hermione glanced at Ron for reassurance, but he raised his eyebrows in surprise. He couldn't believe she'd said this much. He had no idea how much more she should divulge. "Because, I almost died. I didn't want them floating around out of context after my death and having you or someone else finding them and putting them in a Pensieve."

"And they're giving you nightmares."

"There was a reason I took them out in the first place, Arthur. I take it Emma thinks you should meet Denis."

He frowned at the change of subject. "Yes. She said I was spoiled because I was an only child and that I shouldn't be such a baby about it."

Ron and Hermione glanced at each other.

"Oh, is that right then?" Art said, clearly irritated. "You lot think I'm spoiled too? Well, if I am, whose bloody fault is that? I didn't choose to be an only. You should have had more kids. Everyone else in the family did."

Hermione blanched and sat down hard on one of the ottomans.

Ron gave Art such a hard look he stepped back a pace.

"It was a miracle I managed to have you and it wasn't easy," Hermione said quietly.

Shocked, Art sat down on the end of the sofa. "What do you mean?"

"I was on bed rest for weeks and you still came early. And it was…" She put a hand over her mouth and shook her head.

"Brutal." Ron put a hand on her shoulder. "I almost lost both of you," he said grimly.

"Why didn't I know this? No one's ever said—"

"It's not an easy thing to talk about," Ron said. "And you both survived and thrived and we focused on that, not the bad stuff."

Art sat silently staring at the fire for a minute. "Was that one of the memories?"

"No," Hermione said. "Because it had a happy ending."

"I always thought I was an only because Mum was," Art said.

"No. I couldn't have any more children. Too much magical damage." She leaned over and touched his face. "And I don't think you're spoiled. Frankly, I don't think it matters one way or another if you meet Denis. It's important for your dad to get to know him. It's not critical that you do. You should do what you want."

"Actually," Ron said. "I think you should meet him."

Art and Hermione both looked at him with the same surprised expression.

He cleared his throat. "Look, your mother was an only, so like you, she has no experience of siblings, but speaking as a man with five brothers and a sister, I'm really glad to have them. I'm of the opinion that the more family you have the better. Obviously, I'm closest to Ginny and the twins, but all of them matter to me, and there is nothing like a crisis to illustrate just how important that support is. I know you can't have the kind of relationship with Denis that you would've had if you'd grown up together, but that doesn't mean you can't enjoy having him as a brother. I mean, he's an only too. This is an opportunity for both of you, and as a guy with five of them, I can tell you brothers are pretty great."

Art ran his fingers through his hair and scratched his head. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to meet him."

"As it happens, he likes Quidditch," Ron said.

"Oh yeah? Does he play?" Art asked.

Ron smiled. "Yeah. He played Keeper for his house team at school."

"Really?" Art said, smiling. "Like you then."

"Probably better than me," Ron said. "Anyway, I was thinking of getting tickets to Saturday's Canons match. If you're interested, the three of us could go."

Art nodded. "Okay. I don't have any plans for Saturday."

Ron gripped his shoulder. "Good. I'll check with Denis and get tickets."

"Alright then," Art said. "I guess I should be getting back. Emma's probably cooled off by now. Besides, it looks like she's getting her way."

Ron nodded his head sagely. "Always the smart move."

Hermione scowled at him. "Oh, please."

Art smiled. "I'm going to head back." He kissed his mother's cheek and Disapparated.

Ron sat down across from her and sighed. "Want to go back to bed?"

She shook her head. "I'm wide awake."

"Yeah," Ron said. "Me too."

Hermione waved her hand toward the fireplace and it ignited. She shifted from the ottoman into its chair and put her feet up. "What a night."

Ron sighed again.

They sat silently looking at the fire for a few minutes before Ron said, "Can we talk about Margaret for a second?"

"Who?"

"The waitress at the Leaky Cauldron."

"Oh," Hermione frowned. "Why?"

"I just don't want you to be weird about her."

Hermione arched an eyebrow at him. "Seriously?"

"Margaret's alright," Ron said.

"Well good for her," she said.

"Good for me, actually," Ron said.

"Are you trying to piss me off or trying to hurt me? I can't tell." Hermione said sharply.

"Neither," he said. "I'm trying to explain something about that time, about what it was like to be me without you."

Hermione's expression softened. She sighed. "Alright, go ahead."

"First off, I never actually dated her. I would have, but she didn't want to be seen in public with me and she didn't want anyone to know about us?"

"Why?" Hermione said, suddenly offended on Ron's behalf. "You're a war hero."

"And a pureblood," Ron said.

"Isn't that supposed to be a good thing?"

"Not to Margaret, although she's a pureblood too."

"I'm lost now," Hermione said.

She married a Muggleborn before the war. I can't remember his name, but he was in Percy's year. They had a kid, a boy, and she was pregnant when the Death Eaters started rounding up the Muggleborns."

"Mudbloods," Hermione corrected.

"I don't use that term, you know that," Ron said.

"They did," Hermione said.

"I know, but I don't," Ron said again. "Anyway, her parents disowned her for marrying him and it didn't matter that she had two kids and no husband, they didn't take her back, didn't help her in anyway, so she got a job at the Leaky Cauldron and tried to make ends meet."

"That sounds rough," Hermione said.

"It was."

Hermione shook her head. "Shouldn't that have been all the more reason for her to date you?"

"Why? I didn't have any money then. It's not like I could help her financially and it embarrassed her that I was a pureblood. I think she felt like it was dishonoring her husband to be with me."

"Then I don't understand how you got together in the first place."

"Right," Ron said. "That happened about three days after you left."

"I didn't leave. You kicked me out," she said hotly.

"I didn't kick you out," Ron protested.

"Yes, you did! You fucked me on that table and then you said all kinds of mean things to me and told me to leave."

Ron shook his head. "I didn't mean that. You know I didn't mean any of that."

"Yes, you did," Hermione argued. "You absolutely did. You might have regretted it later, but in that moment, you absolutely meant it."

"Then why did I wake up with you on top of me?"

"Because…I didn't want our last time together to be so…I wanted it on my terms, okay?"

Ron looked at her. "Yeah, okay. I get that."

They stared at each other for a long moment.

"So, you were saying, three days after you kicked me out…"

"Okay," Ron said. "I got really drunk at the Cauldron. Margaret got me home."

"And stayed the night?" Hermione said.

"No. We never spent a whole night together. She stayed for a shag and then went home."

"I guess you weren't too drunk to fuck," Hermione said acidly.

"Have I ever been?" Ron asked dryly.

"Not to my knowledge," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Right, so the next day I went by to see her at work and she set me straight on exactly what did and didn't happen and what could and couldn't happen in the future."

"Oh," Hermione said.

"She had a lot of rules, but I respected them. Sometimes she'd show up at mine, sometimes I'd show up at hers, but only very late after I knew she'd put her kids to bed. I never met them, but…"

"But what?"

Ron cleared his throat. "I paid to put them through school."

"You what?"

"I put them through Hogwarts."

She blinked at him. "And you never thought to mention this until now."

"No, because it wasn't relevant to you and me."

Hermione's face went white. "Did you keep fucking her?"

"No! Of course not. I've been completely faithful to you. You know that."

"Do I?"

"Yes," he said firmly.

"And they aren't your kids?"

"No."

"But you put them through school."

"Yes."

Hermione sat back in her chair and stared at the fire. "Why?"

"Because she couldn't afford to. Look, she saved me from crawling back into my cups on more than one occasion. I couldn't help her out financially then, but later, I could, so I did."

"And she let you?"

"Sort of," Ron said.

"What's that mean?" Hermione said, looking at him again.

"I paid the school directly and I paid Flourish and Blotts directly for their books and Madam Malkins directly for their robes. Margaret got sent owls from all three places telling her the tuition was paid and that their books and robes were ready to be picked up."

"Does she know you were the one paying for all that?"

Ron shrugged. "I have no idea if she knows it was me or not. I never told her and the school and shops were instructed not to say. If she's figured it out or suspects, I don't know. Of course, they've long since graduated, so it doesn't matter now anyway."

"So, you just stopped seeing her and then decided to pay for her kids to go to school?"

"Yeah. After we got back together at Christmas, I went to see her at the Leaky Cauldron to tell her I couldn't see her anymore. She said okay and that was that."

Hermione arched an eyebrow at him. "Really? That's it? No scene, no yelling?"

"It wasn't that kind of thing. It was just pub chat and occasional late-night sex. Nothing more. We were both clear on what we were doing so we were clear when we stopped too."

"You're better at that than I am," she said.

"What?"

"Breaking up."

Ron snorted. "Yeah no kidding. I just thought you were mad when you left. I wasn't completely sure we'd broken up until I saw that photo of Krum wiping whipped cream off your nose."

"What?" Hermione said.

"You know, the first picture of you two that appeared in the paper."

"Right, but—"

"I took one look at that picture and knew you were sleeping with him, and I was right, wasn't I?"

"We were just having cocoa," Hermione said. "We were fully dressed in winter coats, hats, boots, gloves, the whole kit."

"But you were already fucking him."

She sighed and frowned. "Yes, but if it's any consolation, I messed up my breakup with him too."

"It isn't, but out of curiosity, how did you manage that?" Ron asked.

"When he showed up at the Burrow Christmas Day, I thought we'd broken up in Miami and he thought we'd just had a row. He was there to makeup, hence the flowers."

"Wow, you do suck at breakups."

She rolled her eyes. "No one is good at everything."

Ron smiled at her. "You're better at more things than most."

She chuckled. "Maybe, but when I'm bad at something, I'm spectacularly bad at it."

His smile broadened into a grin. "True. You're a nightmare on a broom. Lucky you only had to break up twice."

She smiled back at him. "Very."

He reached out and took her hand. "Are we okay?"

"I think so. Is there anything else I don't know about? Are you spending thousands of galleons to feed orphaned dragons in Romania because you slept with one of Charlie's coworkers?"

Ron laughed. "Yes, but that's the last thing, I swear."

Hermione laughed too.

"Seriously though," Ron said. "I make other charitable contributions, but none of the others are that personal."

"Like what?"

"You know, Quidditch for Kids, Fantastic Beast Fund, Magical Malady Consortium, and of course, the Hogwarts scholarships you set up."

Hermione nodded. "All worthy causes."

Ron nodded. "What about you? Are all your galleons accounted for?"

Hermione smiled. "Yes, such as they are. I don't have quite so many to manage as you. I do maintain the same contributions to charities my parents gave to though."

"Really?" Ron said. "I didn't know you did that."

She sighed. "I felt like the charities shouldn't suffer because my parents died."

"So, what are they?"

"Mostly international dental programs."

"Of course," Ron said, smiling. "Muggles and their teeth."

"Well, it's not like they can fix problems with a simple spell. Dental health was my parents' life's work. And…there was also a local shelter for battered women that my mother supported."

"Oh," Ron said, his smile disappearing.

She gave him a sympathetic look. She knew she'd touched a nerve, but they'd been speaking so honestly with each other she didn't want to leave it out just to spare his feelings. She'd never considered herself to be one of those women anyway. She'd left when he got violent and she'd been powerful enough to stop him if she'd wanted to. That was really different from the situation the women in that shelter had been in. "My mother felt strongly about that one. She volunteered there. I did too a few times on breaks from school."

Ron nodded. "Important cause."

"Yes." Hermione squeezed his hand. "I'm knackered. Let's go back to bed." She stood and tugged his hand and he followed her upstairs. She waved a hand and the fire and candles went out behind them. Upstairs in their bedroom, Ron flicked his wand and the beside lamp lit. Hermione pulled off her dressing gown and slid under the covers. Ron did the same and rolled on his side to face her. "I'm so tired," she said.

"Me too. It's like I'm too tired to sleep though."

She nodded. "Exactly."

The V-neck gown she wore showed the top of the scar between her breasts. Ron touched it gently with his index finger. "It's finally faded back to white."

"Yes," Hermione said.

"You know," Ron said with a curious intonation, "I don't think I've ever seen you without it."

Hermione shook her head. "That can't be true. It isn't. We went swimming in the pond when I came to the Burrow for the World Cup. I didn't have it then."

"Ah," Ron said, "But you wore a demure one-piece bathing suit that came up quite high, unlike that trashy little string bikini Ginny was running around in."

Hermione laughed. "I was surprised your mother let her wear that."

"Who could stop her?" Ron said grimacing.

"True," Hermione said, smiling. "Well, I'm sorry I didn't wear a sexier bathing suit back then."

An odd expression came over Ron's face.

"What?" Hermione asked.

He shook his head. "Nothing."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "What?"

"It's not important," Ron said.

She sighed. "Seriously? After everything we've talked about for the last few days. Just say it."

He opened his mouth, but then shut it.

She raised her eyebrows at him.

"I was just wondering if Viktor did."

"If Viktor did what?"

"Saw you before the scar."

"Oh, um." She thought for a moment. "Maybe."

It was Ron's turn to arch an eyebrow.

"No, seriously, I'm not sure. I mean, when we were in school there was a bit of groping, but I never had my top completely off. There were a few buttons undone though, so maybe. Why?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. It's just you and I, we're so banged up."

"It's hard to get through a war without a scratch," she quipped.

He frowned at her. "We got a damn sight more than scratched."

She rested a soothing palm against his chest. "I know. What's wrong?"

"It just doesn't seem fair sometimes. The things we went through. The things we did and what it did to us."

She patted his chest. "I don't think it's fair or unfair. It's just what happened. You have to let it go."

"I can't. I can't stand that I hurt you. I can't stand that you were ever afraid of me."

She frowned at him. "I wasn't."

He gave her a disbelieving look.

"I was not afraid of you," she said enunciating each word. "I was afraid of me."

"What?" He said, clearly confused.

Hermione blew out a slow breath. "I couldn't raise my wand against you."

"I know, but—"

"Shhh," she said. "Listen." She closed her eyes for a moment and blew out another calming breath. "When that Death Eater broke my leg, I was so…angry."

Ron opened his mouth to say something, but she pressed her fingers against his lips to silence him. "I didn't even have my wand. It flew out of my hand when my leg snapped, but I flicked my fingers at him and sliced open his neck. I didn't even think before I did it. It was a gesture born of pure rage. I lay there with his blood raining over me and all I could think was that I'd murdered him with little or no effort or forethought."

"It wasn't murder," Ron protested. "It was battle. That's different."

"I know, but I was there. I know what I did and how I did it. He hurt me, so I made a gesture so sleight he never had a chance to respond to it and then he was dead."

Ron frowned at her.

"So, when you started getting so angry because you couldn't keep a clear head and basic spells were difficult and even working the till at the twins' shop was too hard because the math kept slipping away from you, I pulled back, which just seemed to make you angrier, and the drinking just made it worse. I didn't engage, couldn't engage, because you were still recovering and I knew it was frustrating, but it's like you were hell bent on provoking me. I think I stopped speaking because all I wanted to do was scream at you. You were getting in my way when I was trying work and I knew I couldn't respond because I didn't feel entirely in control and I was afraid I would hurt you." She leveled her gaze at him and trembled slightly. "I mean really hurt you."

He shook his head. "You would never."

"I was scared I might, because there were times I wanted to. I was pretty messed up then." She closed her eyes tight against the memory. "That last night when you held me down on the table, I was so furious, I scared myself, so when you told me to leave, I thought I'd better, for both our sakes. I just didn't realize it would play out like it did."

"So how long did you think it would take?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I thought we just needed a little distance. You needed some time to get yourself together, cut down on the drinking, go back to the healers. I needed some time to calm down. I thought a week or two apart, a month at the most, and we'd be fine."

Ron frowned at her. "You were sleeping with Viktor before a month was up."

"Because I was drowning. You told me to leave, but then when I did, there was absolutely no contact, even when I sent you a Christmas card. What was I to think except that you got what you wanted?"

Ron pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "I thought you were better off without me. I was afraid I was going to be that muddle headed forever."

"The healers said that it would take time," Hermione protested.

"Yeah, but they didn't say how much and it seemed to go on forever."

She cupped his cheek in her hand. "I know."

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter anyway. We managed to put it right. That's what matters."

She nodded. "Yes."

He pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm. "How are the other two?"

"What other two?"

He smiled. "Scars."

"Better."

He raised his eyebrows.

"Fine," she sat up and pulled her gown over her head. "Look for yourself." She lifted her arm so he could see her side.

"This is still pretty red," he said.

"Well, it's the worst one, so it stands to reason it would be the last to settle down."

"Let me see your back." She turned for him. "This one looks a lot better. It's white again. He leaned forward and pressed his lips between her shoulder blades.

"Was asking about the scars just a ploy to get me naked?" she teased.

"Yes," he said and continued kissing his way down her spine.

xXx

The rest of the week was fairly uneventful. When a reporter eventually caught up with Hermione she was as blasé about Denis as Ron had been. At home, things had settled down to their normal routine. Even the nightmares had eased up. She had them, but she only woke Ron one time, and didn't flee the room at all. It was the best sleep she'd had since restoring the memories.

On Saturday, Ron took Denis and Art to the Cannons game. For the Cannons, it was a winning season in which they'd won as many games as they'd lost. In what Ron considered to be a be a major miracle, as well as a sign from the universe that he was meant to have a day out with both his sons, the Cannons won the match. It took all day and into the night, but they won in the end. He took the boys to the Leaky Cauldron to celebrate with the other Cannons fans. After much reliving of the match, and way too much ale to safely Apparate, Ron suggested they all walk back to the house.

It was late when Hermione heard them come in. She was in her study but ventured out because of the racket. The three of them were singing the Chudley Cannons fight song. Denis didn't know the words but that didn't seem to bother any of them. "Oh my," Hermione said.

"Hey!" Ron shouted as he ran over and picked her up and swung her around. "We won!"

She laughed. "That's great."

"It is! Isn't it! I took my boys to the game and they bloody won!" He swung her around again.

"I'm so glad. Now please put me down."

"Oh," Ron said, looking at her as if just realizing he was still holding her. "Right." He set her down. "Then we went to the Cauldron and had some ale."

"Quite a bit of ale from the smell of you," Hermione said suppressing a smile.

Ron's eyes widened. "Oh. I'm sorry. I shouldn't've."

Hermione patted his chest. "You're fine. Have you had anything to eat?" she asked the three of them.

"Only bar snacks," Art said.

"Crisps," Denis said. "And some sort of crackery sticks."

"Bombay mix," Ron clarified.

"I must've eaten a kilo of that," Denis continued. He looked around the room. "Is this your house?"

"Yes," Hermione said. She turned to Ron. "Exactly how much ale has he had?"

"I'm not quite sure," Ron said, scratching his beard. "But I don't think he's a big drinker."

Denis looked vaguely green.

"That way," Hermione said, pointing him toward the powder room.

Art snorted as Denis ran.

Hermione frowned at her son. "Really?" She went back into her study and into the potions cabinet and came back out with three bottles. "You two," she said to Ron and Art. "Go get Winky to make you something decent to eat."

She walked to the powder room and tapped gently on the door.

"Yeah," came the weak reply.

She opened the door a bit. "You alright?"

"Yeah, just sick."

She held out the orange bottle in her hand. "Take a swallow of this and the nausea will stop."

He did as he was told. A moment later, he sighed. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome," Hermione said. "Now you have a choice. You can take a dose of this, she held up a purple bottle and you'll have intensely painful cramps for a minute, but then you won't be drunk anymore, or you can go to bed and just take this hangover potion in the morning." She held up the little brown bottle. "What's your preference?"

He got slowly to his feet. "I don't think I can Apparate back to the Three Broomsticks so I guess I'll take the purple one."

She smiled. "You don't have to Apparate. You're welcome to sleep here, but if you don't want to, I can take you side-along to Hogsmeade."

He raised his eyebrows. "Uh…"

She smiled. "Not to worry. I've done it hundreds of times, but if you're uncomfortable with that, I understand. I suppose we could put you on the Knight Bus, but really, if I were you, I'd just stay here."

"You're sure that would be alright?" Denis said warily.

"Of course," Hermione said.

"Well, alright, I guess I'll do that then."

"Did you want something to eat before you go up? Dry toast maybe?"

Denis nodded. "That sounds good." He followed Hermione into the kitchen where Ron and Art were happily consuming a full English breakfast.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know how you two can eat all that drunk. Winky," she said to the little elf. "Can you fix Denis some dry toast and a cup of weak tea."

Winky smiled warmly. "Yes Miss."

Hermione and Denis took seats at the table. "Denis is staying the night," she said.

"Right," Ron said. "He's too drunk to Apparate and he'll hurl on the Knight Bus."

"You're not eating?" Ron asked her as Winky put the tea and toast in front of Denis.

"I ate dinner hours ago," Hermione said.

Ron looked at the kitchen time clock which was next to their family clock. "Oh, it is late." He looked at the family clock and an odd expression came over his face. Hermione wondered if he was thinking about adding another hand for Denis. Currently the clock had four. One for her, one for Ron, one for Art, and one for Harry. They were all pointing to the home position. Next to her Denis had finished his tea and toast and yawned broadly.

"Come along, Denis," she said. "Let's get you settled for the night."

"Goodnight, Denis," Ron said.

Denis smiled at him. "Goodnight."

Art lifted his chin at him. "Night."

"Night," Denis said and followed Hermione.

She led him up to the top floor of the house where there were three bedrooms. Art's room was her childhood bedroom at the end of the hall. She put Denis is the first room on the right which used to be painted pink when she was child. Now the walls were done in a neutral clay color and the bed had a dark blue quilt that Molly had made for a bedspread. "Here you go," Hermione said. "The loo is through there." She pointed to a narrow door on the opposite wall from the bed.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."

"Call me Hermione. Everyone does. Mrs. Weasley is my mother-in-law."

Denis smiled. "Alright then."

"If you need anything, just call for Winky, she'll come right to you." She pulled the little brown bottle out of her dressing gown pocket. "Drink this in the morning and you'll be right as rain."

"Great, thanks."

"You're welcome," Hermione said. "Goodnight." She went back downstairs to the kitchen where Ron and Art were finishing their dinner. She sat down and frowned at them. "Really? You had to get him drunk first night out?"

Ron looked sheepish. "I didn't mean to. Everyone was just having such a good time after the game."

"Who knew he wasn't much of a drinker?" Art added.

Hermione scowled at him. "And since when are you such an expert?" she snapped.

"Um, I'm not, really," Art said and quickly looked away. "It's not as though you can't knock them back," he muttered.

She frowned at him and gritted her teeth. He had a point, although it bothered her that he knew that. She'd always tried to be discreet with her drinking after Art was born. "Well, I'm not knocking back anything these days and you'd be wise to curtail your own drinking. We don't have the best history with alcohol in this family."

Ron hung his head.

"Are you going to your grandmother's tomorrow?" Hermione asked changing the subject.

"Yeah," Art said. "Emma and I are both going."

"Good," Hermione said. "Are you taking Denis?"

"Uh." Art looked uncomfortable. "Am I meant to? I thought he was going to the all family dinner next week."

Ron nodded. "That's the plan."

"Oh," Hermione said. "Alright then. Well, to bed with you both. Art stop and get hangover potion out of the cabinet before you go up."

He stood and leaned over to kiss her cheek. "Thanks Mum."

"And don't drink so much," she admonished.

"Yes Mum," he said cheekily and went to her study.

"Come on," Hermione said. "Let's go to bed."

Ron followed her. "Do you have any of that stuff that sobers you up?"

"The antidote to mild poisons? Yeah, but you don't want that. The cramps are intense."

"But only for a minute," Ron said. "Come on, give us a dose."

She looked at him. "Why? You're not even that drunk. You've sobered up considerably since you got home."

"No. I'm still drunk. Give it."

"Ron—" she started.

"I don't want to be drunk in bed with you. I don't ever want to do that again."

She started to say something but then thought better of it and pulled the purple bottle out of her dressing gown. He looked stricken that she already had it on her. "I offered it to Denis," she explained.

Ron took the bottle and went into the en suite. She noticed he Impreturbed the door so she wouldn't hear him if he cried out from the pain. She sighed and pulled back the covers on the bed.

A few minutes later he came out and kissed her on the cheek. "Right as rain," he said. He smelled of toothpaste.

"It was fine before," she protested. "It's not a big deal."

He sat on the side of the bed and took her hands. "It is to me."

"Fine," she said. "As long as you're doing it for you and not because you think I need that."

"I know. I needed it."

She squeezed his hands. "Alright. So how did today go aside from the Cannons winning."

"Really well, I think. We mostly talked Quidditch and watched the match but there weren't any discernible snags."

"Good," Hermione said. Art and Denis getting along was so important to Ron, she wanted it for him.

"Honestly, I think you not being too bothered is what brought Art around. You're his mum. If you'd been hurt or offended I don't think he would've had anything to do with Denis," Ron said. "And the same is true with me and Denis. If I said anything against Ester, he'd be done with me. Not that I have anything bad to say anyway. I barely know the woman and what I did know twenty years ago, I liked."

Hermione rolled her eyes but not in a serious way. "Does it concern you that Art isn't taking Denis to the cousin dinner tomorrow?"

"Nah," Ron said, moving over to his side of the bed. "He needs time to talk all this over especially with Clive and Devin without Denis standing there. Besides, I don't want to push either one of them. I'm letting Denis set the pace with me. I wouldn't even have brought him back here tonight except I didn't want him getting sick alone in his room at the Broomsticks."

"I feel bad he's staying there all on his own. It must be expensive and kind of lonely."

"Well," Ron said, "now that Ginny knows he's her nephew, he gets the friends and family discount and I'm picking up the tab."

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"He doesn't know that yet."

"No?"

"I don't want him to feel beholden to me," Ron said. "Like he has to spend time with me because I'm covering his room, but on the other hand, he is my son and it seems wrong for him to spend all those galleons out of his measly intern salary."

Hermione gave him an amused smile. "You're all in, aren't you?"

Ron shrugged and smiled. "Yeah, but he doesn't need to worry about how daft I am. I know I may never see him again after this summer. He may not even want a Christmas card relationship. I mean, I know I'm his father, but I'm not his dad and I would never try and push that on him, but whatever he's willing to offer, I'm willing to take. I just…" He sighed. "I feel so bad about the whole thing. Not that I know how I could have made it different and had it work out."

"Yeah, I know that feeling," Hermione said with a sigh.

He looked at her. "I know you do. That's part of what I love about you."

She wrinkled her forehead. "How's that?"

"I love that you can look at bad things that happened in your life and turn them into compassion for others. Not everyone does that," he said.

She gave him a warm smile. "Thank you."

"Nah," Ron said. "Thank you." He kissed her forehead and she snuggled against him.

"I love you so much," she said. "You know that?"

"I do. I love you too. Lucky we're married. It'd be terrible to be this in love but stuck with other people." He meant it as a joke but it struck a nerve and he could feel her tense up.

She didn't trust herself to say anything. She knew he was only joking, so she just nodded. He pulled her closer and said "Nox" to douse the light. She thought about tomorrow. Sometimes, when Molly hosted all the grandchildren without their parents, Ron's siblings had an informal get together on their own. The host rotated and attendance did too. Tomorrow Bill and Fleur were hosting, and generally Ron and Hermione skipped more often than they attended when Bill and Fleur hosted. Because Gabrielle was Fleur's sister, she and Viktor were invited whenever Bill and Fleur's turn came up. Sometimes they attended, sometimes they didn't, sometimes Gabrielle went on her own. In the fifteen years that the family had been doing these rotating dinners, Hermione had only run into Viktor a handful of times. She didn't know how she felt about the possibility of running into him tomorrow. "Do you want to go tomorrow?" Hermione asked quietly.

"I think we should," Ron said. "We've missed a lot of family time since your accident."

"I guess that's true," she said.

As if he could read her thoughts, he said, "Besides, Gabrielle just had the baby a couple of weeks ago. They might not even come," Ron said.

"That's true," she said.

"So, we'll go then?" Ron asked.

"Of course," Hermione consented. Family issues were weighing heavily on him right now and she wanted him to get what he needed. Besides, it wasn't like there was ever a problem with Viktor. Someone who didn't know their history would likely think she and Viktor barely knew each other.


	5. Photographs and Memories

Ron and Hermione arrived at Bill and Fleur's house just past noon and it seemed like most of Ron's siblings were already there. They went in the front door to find the women in the parlor amassed around Gabrielle and her newest daughter. Ron gave Hermione a questioning look.

"I'm fine," she mouthed and walked over to the other women. Ron could see his brothers and Harry, Karl, and Viktor standing around on the deck so he headed that way after a cursory greeting to the ladies. When he opened the French doors, George was saying to Viktor, "But you hardly speak for Hermione though, do you?"

"I should say not," Ron said, closing the door behind him.

Viktor looked very grim faced. "I did not say I spoke for Hermione, but Ron will agree with me."

"What's going on?" Ron asked.

George immediately turned to him. "Just product testing. We're putting together some new products and we need some help with our I'm-so-blue-you-should-be-blue-too ice cream for the lovelorn."

"Didn't I try that two weeks ago?" Ron said.

"Exactly!" Fred said. "Harmless. Right?"

"Sure," Ron said. "You're only blue for what? An hour?"

"Yeah," George said. "So, Hermione will test it, right?"

"No," Ron said. "Absolutely not."

Viktor looked vindicated and crossed his arms.

"Why not?" Fred asked. "We've had power issues. It works on some people, not on others. We need someone really powerful to test it to see if we finally got it right."

"Give it to Harry," Ron said.

"I've already taken it," Harry said. "Worked this time."

"There you go," Ron said to Fred.

"But men and women are different," Fred said.

"We know you've noticed, Ronnikins," George said.

Ron frowned at him. "Yeah, but the answer is still no."

"Why?" George asked. "Hermione's a good sport."

"Yeah," Ron said. "But no. She's not doing it."

"She's not doing what?" Hermione said, stepping out on to the deck, with Ginny and Angelina behind her. "Aren't you lot supposed to be grilling?"

"I am grilling!" Bill shouted from behind his brothers. "The rest of them are just in my way."

"We're talking shop," Fred said, ignoring Bill and stepping to one side of Hermione.

"And product testing," George said, stepping to her other side. "And Viktor and Ron said you won't help us."

"That is not what I said," Viktor said, scowling.

"Me either," Ron added.

"Oh, right," Fred said. "They said we weren't even allowed to ask you."

"Really?" Hermione said, arching an eyebrow at Ron. He sighed. "Well, why don't you ask me and I'll decide for myself."

"Ah, yes," Fred said. "Because you're an independent witch."

"She can make up her own mind," George agreed.

"We need you to take a bite of ice cream and see if it turns you blue," Fred said.

"No pain, and it only lasts an hour," George added. "The rest of the family has already had it. Took ages to get it right. You're our last test."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think so."

Viktor and Ron now both looked vindicated.

"What?" Fred and George both said at the same time. "Why?"

Hermione looked at Ron, who gave her a sympathetic look in response.

"Come on," Fred said. "The family always tests."

"Stop," Viktor said to them.

"It's okay," Hermione said to him. "I'm not going to do it. Let it go."

Fred scowled at her. "I don't understand."

"You don't have to," Ron said. "

"But—" George started.

Part of Hermione wanted to tell them why she wouldn't do something as simple and silly as taking a bite of ice cream. She wanted to just say it so she would never have to deal with anything like this again, but the bigger part of her clung to keeping it hidden, to never telling Ron's family what happened in Bulgaria. It was bad enough that Ron and Harry knew. The idea of the whole family knowing left her cold. "I said no. It's my body. I decide what happens to it," she snapped. "Excuse me." She went inside and down the hall to the loo where she splashed cold water on her face and leaned against the vanity until she'd calmed down enough to go back outside. She hated this. Those bloody memories were killing her. She was furious with herself for leaving them out for so long and so tired of dealing with the ramifications of having them restored. She should have put them back when she was younger. Of course, Viktor had insisted she should put them back in at the time. She sighed. Bastard. He was always right.

xXx

"I don't understand this," Fred said to Ron when Hermione went inside. "She's always been a good sport before."

"For fuck's sake, Fred," Ron said. "Let it go."

"Please," Viktor agreed.

"He's got a point though," George said. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Ron grumbled. "She's tired. She's been through a lot."

"But she's fully recovered," Percy chimed in. "She's got a new wand and she's working at the Ministry again."

Bill stepped away from the grill. "And what's with you today?" He said, pointing a spatula at Viktor.

"What do you mean?" Viktor said squaring his shoulders.

"Oh, come on," George said. "Whenever you and Hermione are at the same party you act like you've only just met."

"That's not true," Viktor scoffed.

"Yes, it is," Bill said. "But today you've been acting like you know something the rest of us don't."

Viktor bristled. "I expect I know a lot of things the rest of you don't."

"Look—," Harry said, trying to diffuse the situation.

"Yeah, and you too," Fred said to Harry. "The three of you have been giving each other looks during this whole conversation."

"What's going on," George said, concern wrinkling his forehead. "Is she alright?"

Ron sighed and ran his fingers back through his hair. "She's fine." He turned and walked down the deck stairs and to the creek that ran along the bottom of the property. Harry followed him.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked as they reached the water's edge.

"Yeah," Ron said, wiping his hand down his face and scratching at his beard. "It's just been rough since Christmas and these last few weeks have been..."

"I can imagine," Harry said.

"At least she's finally sleeping through the night some now. It's been months of nightmares. And then Denis showed up." Ron shook his head. "We've been having some brutal conversations lately."

"I'm sorry you're fighting," Harry said, "But given the circumstances—"

"We're not fighting," Ron corrected him. "At least not much. We're mostly just talking but we're talking more honestly than we have in…well…possibly ever."

"Really?" Harry said.

"Yeah, it's been hard, but also really good. I swear I think I might love her more now than I ever have."

Harry smiled at him. "Sap."

Ron chuckled. "Yeah, I know." He sighed and looked down the creek. "I just wish I had never driven her away in the first place."

Harry shrugged. "You weren't yourself."

"That's no excuse," Ron said.

"Well," Harry said. "It takes two to tango and she's the one who left. It's not all down to you."

Ron shook his head. "That's not true."

"I know you told her to leave," Harry said. "But it's not like she had to. You were drunk. If she'd waited 'til morning, you'd have changed your mind."

Ron looked at him. "No. She had to go," he said grimly.

"Hey, come eat!" Bill shouted from the deck.

"Come on," Harry said.

"Yeah," Ron said and trudged after him.

xXx

When Hermione came out of the loo, Gabrielle was across the hall in the guest room trying to unbutton her shirt one handed while trying to quiet the baby who was fussing.

"Need some help?" Hermione asked.

"Could you hold her a moment? I'm trying to do too many things at once and she's hungry."

Hermione smiled. "Sure. What's her name again?"

Gabrielle handed her the crying baby and said, "Iskra, after Viktor's grandmother."

"Hullo, Iskra," Hermione cooed. "Your mum will just be a moment."

"Oh, look at that," Gabrielle said as Iskra quieted.

"It's the hair," Hermione said. "Nothing makes a baby happier than a fist full of my hair."

Gabrielle chuckled as she sat down and pulled a shawl over her. "She does have a good grip."

"That she does," Hermione said, handing Gabrielle the baby and then untangling the little fingers from her hair.

"Thank you," Gabrielle said as she settled the baby to her breast.

"I'm always happy to hold a baby," Hermione said. "Viktor's parents must be pleased with the name."

Gabrielle shrugged. "I'm not sure they even know."

"What?"

"To my knowledge they haven't spoken to him since we got married. He sent them a birth announcement for Clemence but we never heard back. I don't know if he even bothered for Adaline or Iskra."

Hermione's mouth dropped open in shock. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

Gabrielle shrugged. "I'm sorry they've cut him off, but it's kind of nice not to have to deal with them anymore. They were awful to me every time I saw them."

Hermione chuckled. "They were to me too. They couldn't stand that their lovely pureblood son was dating a mudblood."

"Ha," Gabrielle said. "You think that's bad. How do you think they felt when he married someone who isn't entirely human and then had children with her? I assure you they hate me a lot more than they ever hated you. They were positively glowing about you when I came along."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "I can't imagine Viktor's mother saying anything nice about me."

"Well, trust me, she can when she compares you to a Veela, which by the way is what she always called me, 'that Veela' like I'm a thing instead of a person with a name and feelings."

"His parents are dreadful, especially his mother. I don't know how they managed to raise such a decent son," Hermione said.

Gabrielle shook her head. "Must be nature, because it certainly wasn't nurture."

"True. Do you want me to bring you a plate?"

"No, I'm fine. She's a pretty good eater, so I should be out in a half hour or so."

"Alright, see you in a bit then," Hermione said and went to rejoin everyone else outside. She ran into Viktor in the hallway.

"I was coming to check on Gabrielle," he said.

"She's feeding the baby," Hermione said.

"Ah," he said.

She went to move past him but he put a hand on her arm. "Hermione." She looked at him. "The family is worried about you."

She sighed.

"Perhaps you should tell them."

She was surprised he would suggest that. "Uh…"

"Gabrielle knows the whole of it, but perhaps the family could be told about the attack, without mentioning the rest of it."

"You told Gabrielle?" She was shocked.

Viktor sighed. "When Clemence was born she was moving my childhood books into the nursery and the photo Todor took of you fell out of one of them."

"What?" Hermione hissed. "There was only meant to be one photo and I destroyed it along with the negative."

"At the time it was taken, I asked for a copy. He must have sent it that day, because when we finally got back to London it was waiting in the mail. I tucked it in the back of the book to deal with later and then forgot about it."

Hermione held a hand to her forehead. "Bloody hell. What did you tell her?"

"What we intended to tell everyone at the time, that it was mine, but that we were attacked…"

Hermione closed her eyes. "Okay. Okay. Fine. I'll think about it." She glared at him. "But I want that photo."

He bowed his head. "Of course."

She moved past him only to realize Bill was staring at them from the parlor. "Come and eat," he said.

The others were already taking their seats when Hermione stepped out on to the deck. Fred and George had expanded the table to seat everyone, while Harry and Ginny were still transfiguring boxes into extra chairs. Fleur came out carrying a large bowl of tabbouleh and set it on the table next to an equally large bowl of melon. Bill came out of the house and picked up a huge platter of merguez sausages and marinated chicken. Percy was right behind him with grilled oysters. Hermione really enjoyed the different meals everyone served at these sibling Sundays.

When she took her seat next to Ron, everyone got quiet.

She sighed. Viktor came out and took a seat. Everyone was at the table except Gabrielle. Hermione took Ron's hand under the table. "Okay, look," she said. "I'm sorry for snapping earlier. I've recently…I mean…a long time ago I…" She blew out a calming breath and closed her eyes. She looked at Ron. "I don't think I can do this."

He squeezed her hand. "That's okay. You don't have to."

"We were attacked," Viktor said from the other end of the table.

Hermione looked at him as everyone else's eyes shifted his way, but Viktor only looked at Hermione. "We had been dating for a few months and I took her to Bulgaria to meet my friends and family. We were attacked by Death Eaters in Sophia. I was badly injured and left in the street. She was taken."

Mouths dropped open around the table.

"She saw the Death Eaters but did not recognize them, so many hours later, when the Aurors rescued her, they asked for the memories so they could look at them in a Pensieve and try to identify the attackers. She gave them the memories but when they brought them back to her, she did not restore them."

"Which was stupid," Hermione added. "And Viktor said so at the time. I should have listened to him, because recently those memory bottles got broken and I had to put them back. It's been…"

"Awful," Ron finished for her.

She sighed. "It's my own fault, but now the events of that day feel fresh, like they just happened." She looked at Fred and George. "I can't test your product because…" She blew out another slow breath and closed her eyes.

"They used her for target practice," Viktor said.

"Yes." Hermione nodded, grateful that he'd said it for her. "And in the midst of a lot of worse spells, one of them just kept casting color charms at me. It was kind of absurd. Perhaps it was all he could manage. I'm not sure. It would've almost been funny if everything else hadn't been so horrifying."

"I'm so sorry," George said. "We didn't know."

"Of course not," Hermione said. "How could you? Look, this is no one's fault but mine. I should have handled this ages ago, but I didn't, and now I'm paying for it, but I'll get through it. It's just taking some time, that's all."

There was a deafening silence around the table.

"Well," Ron said, clapping his hands. "I'm starved. Pass me some of those oysters, Percy."

It broke the tension and everyone began passing platters of food around and commenting on what they were eating and what nice weather it was for a barbeque. No one said anything else about the attack. Gabrielle joined them at the table. Iskra was asleep, so Viktor took her so Gabrielle could eat. Conversation shifted to the baby and how she was doing.

Everyone was still sitting around the table finishing up their ice cream when Fred leaned over and kissed Angelina's cheek. "Come on luv, we should go gather up our brood before they drive Mum completely around the bend."

Angelina sighed and stood. "Right. That's enough adult time."

Everyone said their good-byes before they Disapparated. Then Percy stood. "I need to get going as well."

"Why?" Bill asked. "You don't have a brood to pick up."

"No, but I'm meeting Penelope," Percy said.

"I thought that was over," Bill said.

Percy shrugged. "Maybe not. Night all." He pulled his wand and Disapparated.

"That's just bloody tragic," George said.

Bill shook his head. "What is he thinking?"

"Once they kick you out," George added. "It's over. It's not like she's going to take him back."

"You don't know that," Hermione said. "It could still work out."

George shook his head.

"Come on Hermione," Harry said. "She put him out of the house. If that doesn't say it's over, I don't know what does."

"Getting kicked out doesn't have to mean it's over," Hermione insisted.

"Really?" Bill said sarcastically. "How many times have you been chucked and come back?"

"Well…" Hermione couldn't believe she'd stepped into this. "I just feel bad for Percy. I'm a big believer in second chances."

"Yeah," Ron quickly agreed. "Sure, he can be a prat, but I think he really loves her."

Sympathy was expressed all around until Fleur stood and began clearing the table.

As the others rose to help her, Ginny, who'd been quietly sitting next to Hermione, turned to her and said in a low voice, "That party at Oliver's the one when Neville took you home because you'd been cursed with Tentaculous—"

"Yes," Hermione said, knowing what she would ask. "That happened in Bulgaria."

"Why didn't you say?" Ginny asked.

"Because I didn't want it to talk about it or think about it. I was getting better and I just wanted to move forward."

"But if you'd told me, I would've been there for you."

"I know that, but I couldn't," Hermione said.

"I don't understand. I know things had gone south with you and Ron and I know I didn't reach out like I should have, but if you'd said…"

Hermione shook her head. "Come with me." She got up and walked down the deck stairs to the water. Ginny followed. When they had walked around a bend in the creek and were out of sight of the house, Hermione turned to her. "I'm going to tell you something that very few people know."

"Okay," Ginny said slowly.

Hermione stood for a moment gathering her courage. "I was…" She cleared her throat and blew out a calming breath. "I was pregnant when Viktor and I were attacked in Sophia."

Ginny's mouth dropped open.

"Obviously, I lost the baby as a result of the attack."

Ginny put a hand over her mouth.

"So…I couldn't…I didn't want that in the papers. I didn't want people speculating. I was so devastated. I needed…I couldn't talk about it. That's why I didn't put the memories back. And reliving losing her has been…" She shook her head.

Ginny didn't say anything. She just stepped forward and put her arms around Hermione. "I'm so sorry."

In spite of her best efforts not to, Hermione began to cry. Once she started she found herself sobbing on Ginny's shoulder the way she would have done twenty years ago had she given herself the opportunity. Ginny held her and waited. Hermione pulled herself together and pulled out her wand and cast the spell to make it look as though she hadn't been crying. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" Ginny said. "You obviously needed that."

Hermione nodded. "I should have told you at the time. It probably would've helped."

Ginny sighed. "I wish you had."

"Me too, but back then…I was so…devastated…and embarrassed…and ashamed. All of those emotions were tied up together and because I hadn't told you that I was pregnant to begin with, I didn't know how to say it after I'd lost the baby." Exhausted, she sat down on the bank of the creek.

Ginny sat next to her. "So, how far along?"

She closed her eyes. "Twenty-two weeks."

Ginny's face fell. "Oh, Hermione. Was it Ron's?"

Hermione shook her head. "If she had been, I probably would've come back. If not to Ron, at least to the family."

Ginny sighed. "But we knew you were with Viktor, you could have—"

Hermione put her face in her hands.

"Oh," Ginny said, the truth dawning. "Viktor wasn't the father."

"Hence the shame and humiliation," Hermione said without taking her face from her hands.

"You got pregnant in Amsterdam," Ginny said in a hushed tone.

"Yes."

Ginny put her hand on Hermione's back in a gesture of comfort. "No wonder you couldn't say."

Hermione sat up and pushed her hair back. "I've been so ashamed of what happened there for so long. For years I've gone over it and over it. Why didn't I say something to Viktor about the drugs earlier? Why did I smoke with Todor? Why didn't it occur to me that the juice might be spiked? Why didn't I leave the party downstairs and join Viktor in the shower upstairs when he got back from training? Change any one of those decisions and none of this would have happened."

"Wow," Ginny said. "Twenty years is a long time to beat yourself up."

"You sound like the healer I've been talking to."

"I'm glad you're doing that. It sounds like it's long overdue."

"Definitely," Hermione agreed.

"Is it helping?" Ginny asked.

"We're having this conversation, so I think it is."

Ginny nodded. "That's true. What's her take on your lost weekend?"

"She thinks it's time I let myself off the hook."

"And how do you feel about that?"

"I don't know. She says that, although I made some bad decisions, ultimately I was a victim, as was everyone else in the room except Filip, who was the one who spiked the juice."

"I'm surprised you all didn't notice he'd used a love potion. Once you smell one of those, they're hard to forget."

"I wish he had. I'd have noticed straight away, but he used a Muggle drug instead and none of us realized."

"Bloody hell," Ginny said.

"Yeah. Waking up the next morning was…I don't even know."

"Familiar?" Ginny said softly.

Hermione sighed and shook her head. "Not really. I mean it wasn't great after what happened with the Poacher's Curse. It was awful and awkward but at least I knew Ron and Harry and I trusted them implicitly. In Amsterdam, I didn't know anyone there, not really. I barely knew Viktor. I didn't know what was going to happen or who might find out. The scope of it was…" She shook her head. "It took days for it to really sink in."

"And then you were pregnant," Ginny said.

"Right," Hermione said. "And then I was pregnant."

"I'm so sorry," Ginny said.

"Yeah, me too, but it was a long time ago. I just need the memories to settle so it feels like a long time ago instead of just the other day."

Ginny nodded. "They will in time."

"I know. I'm trying to be patient." She stood and dusted off her jeans. "We should head back."

"Yeah," Ginny said, getting up.

xXx

When they walked back on to the deck, Ron said, "There you two are. Where'd you go?"

Ginny patted her belly. "We had to walk off some of that excellent lunch."

"Tell me about it," Harry said, patting his own belly. "No need to make dinner tonight, I think."

"Good," Ginny said. "Because I wasn't planning on it."

Ron snorted. "Like you ever make dinner. Dobby does that, doesn't he?"

"I plan the menus," Ginny said.

"Really?" Hermione said. "I let Winky handle all of that."

"I guess I like to be more involved," Ginny said.

Ron put his hands on Hermione's shoulders. "It would be hard to be less. Hermione likes to be surprised."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Thanks."

He kissed the top of her head. "Oh please, as if you give a toss about household management."

"I care," Hermione protested. "I just trust Winky to handle it and she does an excellent job."

"Yes," Ron said, suppressing a smirk. "And on that note, we should head home."

They said their good-byes and Disapparated.

xXx

When they landed in the kitchen, Hermione went into the parlor and flopped down on the sofa. "It's not even half six and I feel like it's midnight."

Ron sat next to her. "Still not a hundred percent?"

"No. I'm recovered. It's just telling the family, or rather listening to Viktor tell it, was exhausting and then when Ginny and I went for a walk, I told her I was pregnant in Bulgaria."

Ron raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"You and Harry already knew. It bothered me that she didn't. Besides, she asked about the Tentaculous."

"What Tentaculous?"

"Oh, that's right, you weren't at that party." She sighed. "The first party I went to after we got back from Bulgaria was at Oliver's up in Scotland. One of the curses I got hit with in Bulgaria was Tentaculous. It takes weeks to stop having outbreaks of tentacles, but I thought I was done with them. Anyway, at some point during the party pixies were released and they dusted the whole place and I sneezed and had an outbreak. Viktor had been called back to Sophia for a crisis with his parents, but he thought he'd finish up in time to meet me there, so I'd gone alone. Luckily, Neville was there and he got me home. Just as we were leaving, Harry and Ginny arrived. When Neville went back to the party he told them what had happened and Harry came to check on me, but by that time, Viktor was home. Harry popped right into the kitchen. Unfortunately, I'd forgotten to mention to Viktor that Harry was allowed to do that." She grimaced. "It wasn't a great night."

Ron snorted. "I guess not."

"Anyway, Ginny knew about all that. She actually asked me about it when we were getting ready before their wedding which wasn't long after the party. At the time, I lied and blamed it on work. When she asked about it today, I didn't want to lie again."

Ron nodded. "I can understand that. I almost told Harry why you really left today."

Alarmed she turned and looked at him. "But you didn't."

"No, but I'm going to. It's time."

"No, it's not," Hermione said emphatically. "He doesn't need to know that. He never needs to know that."

Ron sighed. "It was twenty years ago, luv. He'll forgive me."

"He may not forgive me though."

"What are you talking about? You didn't do anything wrong."

She took his hand. "I made the wrong call." Ron started to protest but she held up a hand to stop him. "Not about leaving. I had to do that, but I should've gone immediately to Harry and told him what was going on. I should have trusted him not to choose between us if he knew the truth. I should have trusted him period. Ginny too. If I had, then they probably would've done immediately what they ended up doing anyway, getting your parents involved, and getting you seen to. And really, I should have gone to your parents. I don't know why I didn't."

Ron shook his head. "You can't blame yourself for that. It's not fair."

"I'm not."

He looked at her in disbelief.

"No really. If I've learned nothing else from talking to that healer it's that it's not fair to judge your past self by what you know now. I wasn't in a good place then. I was so hurt and angry about my parents, about you taking that curse for me, and the state of you afterward. I was in a lot of pain, physical and emotional, and I wasn't in a good frame of mind for making decisions. Besides, after what happened with the Poacher's Curse, it felt weird to go to Harry to ask for his help with you. I felt like we should be able to get it sorted on our own without dragging him into it. Looking back now, I wish I had gone to him. For better or worse, the three of us are entwined and have been since long before that curse hit us. Ginny understands that, and once I came back, it's like the three of us just accepted that we would always be in each other's lives and that would be okay. We don't even bother to pretend otherwise now and nobody cares. But back then, I did care. I thought we should try and get some distance from him and stand on our own as a couple."

"We do stand on our own as a couple," Ron said.

"We do now, twenty years and one son later, but back then, we could barely stand up much less stand on our own. In the end, I did the best I could, unfortunately, that meant I ran away from my whole life."

"And you don't think Harry will understand that?"

She sighed. "Eventually, yeah, I'm sure he would, but at first he's going to be really hurt and angry at both of us. I just don't see any point in putting him through that when so much time has passed. Besides, what would you even say? Do you really want to tell him what happened that night? You can say those words out loud? To Harry? Really? Because I'm pretty sure I couldn't."

Ron shook his head slowly.

Hermione took his hands in hers. "Then please, please, just about this, can we let sleeping dogs lie?"

He looked at her. "That doesn't make me a coward still hiding what I did?"

"Hiding it from whom? I know. You know. We've worked through it. Harry might be part of us, but he isn't part of this and he doesn't need to be."

Ron brought her hands to his mouth and kissed them. "Alright. He pulled her into a hug. I love you so much."

"I love you too. Thank goodness. Who else would have either one of us?"

"No one. No one in their right mind."

She chuckled.

xXx

The next morning, Ron and Hermione were sitting at the breakfast table. Winky had made Hermione's favorite, soft-boiled eggs with toast soldiers and they were eating and reading the paper before getting ready for work. There was a knock on the door. Ron lowered his paper and looked at Hermione. "Were you expecting anyone?"

She shook her head. "No."

Ron stood. "I'll get it then. When was the last time you did the anti-Muggle charm on the house?" he asked as he walked to the foyer.

"I assure you my wards are fine." Hermione groused.

Ron opened the door to find Viktor on the front stoop. "Hey. What are you doing here?"

Viktor cleared his throat. "Hermione asked for this," he said, holding up an envelope.

"Oh," Ron said, and stepped away from the door. "Come in. You want a cup of tea? We're just finishing breakfast."

Viktor followed him into the kitchen. "I'm sorry to interrupt," he said, "but I'll be out of town for a few weeks and I wanted to get this to you before I left." He handed Hermione the envelope.

"Ah," she said, setting it on the table. "Have a seat. Winky could you get Viktor a cup of coffee?"

"We have coffee?" Ron asked.

"I keep some on hand for guests," Hermione explained.

Viktor and Ron sat in the chairs on either side of her.

Winky snapped her fingers and handed Viktor a cup of coffee.

"Thank you," Viktor said. "Gabrielle also wanted me to thank you," he said to Hermione, "for not mentioning to the rest of the family how those memory bottles got broken."

"It's fine. No one needs to know that," Hermione said.

"Well, we both appreciate it."

"So, what's this then?" Ron said, reaching for the envelope.

Hermione pressed her fingers on it to keep him from sliding it over. "It's a photograph."

Ron raised his eyebrows and then scowled.

"Not one of those," Hermione quickly amended. "Those are all gone." She cut her eyes at Viktor. "Right?"

"Yes," he said firmly and sipped his coffee.

"Then what's the problem?" Ron asked.

"Todor took this photo not long before we were attacked in Sophia. I was pregnant."

Ron tugged the envelope. "I've seen you pregnant."

Hermione released her hold.

Ron opened the envelope and Hermione and Viktor were both surprised to see him smile. "Look at you," he said. "You were so young and so beautiful."

"Oh please," Hermione scoffed.

"No," Viktor said. "He is right. There is something about a pregnant woman that is very beautiful." He cleared his throat and stood. "I should go."

Ron and Hermione stood too. "Thank you for bringing that," she said.

"You're welcome."

"Good luck with the away games," Ron said.

"Thank you," Viktor nodded. "We will need it. This team has not gelled the way I was hoping." He shook his head and he and Ron talked Quidditch on the way back to the front door. Hermione sat back down at the table and picked up the photo of her twenty-year-old self. It was odd to see it after all these years. In the photo her head was down at first and then she looked up and directly into the camera making if feel as if her younger self were looking directly at her. Ron and Viktor had thought she'd looked beautiful, but to her eyes, that girl looked tired and unsure, but perhaps she was just projecting.

"So, what are you going to do with it?" Ron asked as he came back into the kitchen.

Hermione sighed. "Burn it, I guess."

"Why?"

"Are you serious?" she said, raising her eyebrows.

"Yeah," Ron said, taking his seat next to her. He took the photo from her. "It's beautiful."

"Ron, no one needs to see this. What if Art saw it?"

He looked at her. "What if he did? There's no date on it. You look the same here as when you were pregnant with him. If he saw this, he'd just assume it was him in there."

Hermione took the photo back from him. "But it's not."

"I know that and you know that, but no one else will know that."

"Viktor and Gabrielle know," she said. "And Harry and Ginny."

"Okay, but it's not like they go through our photo albums."

"You want me to put this in an album? Have you lost your mind?"

Ron took her hand. "No. Listen, these last few months have been grueling. You've been gutted over this."

"I know," she said. "But I just need the memories to settle."

"Right, and then what will you have?"

She cocked her head at him. "I don't understand."

Ron sighed. "I don't know. I just feel like we've gone through all this and you're finally getting your head straight about it and then the memories will settle, and in the end…"

"There won't be anything left," Hermione finished for him.

"Right. The whole thing will just be a distant memory."

"But isn't that for the best? I mean, haven't I been keeping the whole thing alive by leaving those memories bottled."

Ron stroked her cheek. "Well, yeah, luv. I think that's exactly what you've been doing. You've been keeping her alive in those bottles."

"But, isn't it time I laid her to rest? She's been dead a really long time, which, if we're honest, is the only reason we're sitting here having this conversation together instead of somewhere else married to other people."

Ron squeezed her hand. "Maybe that's true. But what's also true is that you were willing to risk all that to have her. She was meant to live and then she didn't get to."

A tear slipped down Hermione's cheek.

Ron wiped it away with this thumb. "So, keep the photo, yeah?"

She looked down at her twenty-year-old self looking up, her rounded belly on full display. She cleared her throat and stood. "I should get to work. I've got two projects to review."

Ron nodded. "Yeah, I should go check on the shop."

Hermione picked up the photo and Ron watched her walk out of the kitchen. He didn't ask what she intended to do with it and she didn't say.


	6. Health and Safety

**Health and Safety**

It was late in the afternoon, when there was a knock on the door to her rooms in the Department of Mysteries.

Hermione looked up from the parchment she was reading. "Come in."

Thomas Greene poked his head inside. "Do you have a moment?"

"Sure," she answered.

He surprised her by moving a stack of books from a chair in the corner of the room and dragging it over in front of her desk. It wasn't like Thomas to sit when he spoke to her. He wasn't generally one to linger. There's been a development with the new class of candidates.

Hermione felt ice run through her veins.

Reading her expression, Thomas held up a hand. "Art is fine. More than fine actually."

"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked as she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well, I know we haven't spoken about the candidates as we normally would because Art is your son, but now that the first phase is over—"

"There's loads more testing to go, Thomas," Hermione said.

"Yes, but you and I both know, the first phase tells the tale. You should be pleased, really. He's exceptional and with Jones and Basra both retiring this year…"

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and pressed a finger to the bridge of her nose. She didn't want to hear this.

Thomas paused to give her a moment. "Anyway, the reason I'm here is that next week begins the second set of practical magic and with that comes the—"

Hermione looked up sharply. "The safety lecture," she finished for him as she shook her head. "No, Thomas. No. That's not right. You can't."

"I have to. They have to understand the magnitude and that's the worst cockup the department has seen in over a hundred years. The impact will be far more significant than just looking at dusty memories from hundreds of years ago."

Hermione shook her head. "He can't see that. Excuse him from that bit."

"You know I can't. It's too major. Everyone has to see it, even Art, especially Art."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"He's a legacy recruit. We don't have many of those. He needs to understand that this isn't just his mum's job, that it's dangerous, that this kind of magic is unpredictable and can be deadly if every precaution isn't taken and sometimes even if it is."

"So, you're going to make him watch his mother blow up?" Hermione asked angrily. "Do you want to see your mum blow up?"

"Hermione," Thomas said gently.

"Because I saw my mum after she was murdered. My dad too and let me tell you it changes you. So, I get that I'm not dead, but only just, Thomas. You, of all people, know that and you're still going to make my son sit through it? Seriously?"

He cleared his throat. "Actually, we're all going to watch it. It was such a significant incident that the whole department is meant to be there. Although, the general consensus was that you could be excused from that bit."

She let out an agonized laugh. "Oh, well, if I'm to be excused that'll be alright then."

Thomas sighed. "No. But I'm telling you, so you can talk to Art first. Prepare him. Technically, that's out of bounds. You're not meant to discuss the trials at all with him, but I'm making an exception in this case."

"And I'm what? Meant to be grateful?"

He grimaced.

"Well, I'm not grateful. Why he even wants this bloody job, I'll never understand."

Thomas frowned. "You know why. It's the same reason you did."

"I was broken!" Hermione shouted. "This was all I had! He has options. Lovely options."

"You had all the same options," Thomas said quietly.

"No, I did not! You might have had them but I didn't!"

Thomas sat quietly and let her rant.

"I had the weight of the world on my shoulders for years with Harry. Years! There at the end I was making life or death decisions every day, casting complex spells that if done incorrectly would have had us found and killed. And then one day, I woke up, and I was torn to pieces and all of that was gone. So, excuse me if I didn't see going to work for bloody Gringotts as a viable option." She closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing and calm down. "You can't show him."

"I can and I will and I'm doing it tomorrow. Go home and tell him what to expect."

They both stood and the air around Hermione crackled and there was a hint of ozone. Thomas smiled sadly at her and left. "You fucking bastard," Hermione shouted after him. He didn't respond.

She didn't go home. Not immediately. Instead she Apparated to the Scottish coast and then to the Outer Hebrides to walk along the shore of an isolated uninhabited island that was a bird sanctuary. The island was just as windswept and desolate as it had been when she and Ron and Harry had stayed there ages ago. It was raining but she didn't bother with a charm or even to pull the hood up on her cloak. She just walked until she was soaked through and too cold to continue.

She Apparated into the kitchen and stood shivering and dripping on the floor.

"Miss!" Winky cried and snapped her fingers and handed Hermione a cup of hot tea.

Ron stepped into the kitchen. "Where have you been? It's half eight. Bloody hell, why are you all wet?"

"I went for a walk."

Ron looked out the kitchen window. The sun was starting to set and there was a light breeze but not a cloud in the sky. "Where?"

"Sandray."

"In the bloody Outer Hebrides? Are you mad? No one even lives there."

"Yes," Hermione said as she tugged off her cloak.

"Yes what?" Ron asked.

"Yes, I was in the Outer Hebrides, yes, I'm mad, and yes, no one lives there."

"Bloody hell, you're soaked through," he pulled his wand and cast a drying charm on her clothes, followed by a warming charm. What, you forgot how to cast an umbrella charm?"

"No. I just had other things on my mind. I need to go see Art, but I need to tell you something first." She sat down on one of the kitchen chairs.

Ron sat opposite her. "Alright."

"Thomas told me today that Art made it through the first round of trials."

Ron sat back. "Oh. But, he's still got loads more to do, yeah?"

Hermione took a sip of her tea. "Technically yes, but the first round often tells the tale of who will and who won't make it. So much so that sometimes all the candidates are dismissed after the first round. This time, there are two left."

"And Art's one of them."

Hermione nodded.

"I take it Thomas thinks Art can go the distance."

She nodded again.

Ron ran a hand down his face and over his beard. "Bloody hell."

"I know you don't want this for him. Neither do I, but—"

"It's his choice," Ron finished for her.

"Yes."

"Fuck," Ron said.

"I know, but there's more."

Ron looked at her. "More?"

"Tomorrow is the first day of phase two and that always starts with a review of departmental safety procedures followed by time with a Pensieve looking at the magical accidents that have occurred over the years."

Ron didn't say anything for a moment, absorbing what she'd said. Then he shook his head. "No. No. They wouldn't make him watch that. How could they even? Just don't give them the bloody memory."

"It's not my memory he'll see. It's the memories of the two wizards that drew the circle and were conducting the experiment and probably also Thomas' memory of what he came in on."

Ron grimaced. "And you can't stop this?"

"No." She looked down at the cup in her hands. "Maybe it's for the best anyway."

"Are you mad?"

She looked up and gave him a weak smile. "I thought we'd already established that."

He frowned at her.

"Look, this might be just what he needs to deter him from this career path entirely."

Ron pulled at his beard and quirked his lips. "But…"

"I know," she said softly. "I know." She stood. "I've got to go talk to him."

"Do you want me to go with you?"

"No."

He took her hand. "Are you sure?"

She sighed. "No. But this is an Unspeakable conversation."

He stared intently at her. "I love you."

She ruffled his hair. "I love you too."

xXx

Hermione Apparated to the alley next to Weasley's Enchanted Electronics and made her way up the rod iron staircase to the flat above the store. She knocked and waited.

Art's girlfriend Emma opened the purple door. "Professor?"

Hermione smiled. "I'm not anyone's teacher anymore Emma."

"Sorry, Hermione, habit."

"I know."

Emma stepped away from the door and gestured Hermione inside. "Come in. What brings you out?"

Hermione followed her into the parlor. "I need to speak to Art."

"About what?" Art appeared at the bedroom door, pulling on a T-shirt.

"Work," Hermione said grimly.

"Oh," Emma said. "So, it's a private conversation. I'll leave you to it then. She went into their bedroom and shut the door behind her.

Hermione flicked her wand at the closing door and said "Impreturb."

"That wasn't necessary," Art said, scowling. "Emma's not a snoop."

"No, but it's not a thick door," Hermione said.

"Fine, what's this about then?" he asked, irritated.

"To begin with, congratulations on making it through the first round of trials. That's very impressive."

"Thanks," Art said.

"Right," Hermione said. She stood there fiddling anxiously with her wand. She wondered briefly if Art and Emma had a bottle of Ogden's in the flat.

"Mum?" Art prompted. "What's this about?"

"Tomorrow at the Ministry will be all about safety."

"I know. They already told us that."

"Right," Hermione said. "What they didn't tell you is, that at the end of the lecture, you'll be going into a large room with an enormous Pensieve in it and there you'll be made to watch the memories of all the magical accidents the DoM has bottled.

"Oh," Art said, sitting down on the edge of the sofa. "So, I guess that will include…"

Hermione sat on one of the wing chairs across from him. "Yes."

Art pushed his fingers back through his hair. "Shit."

"Yes," Hermione agreed.

"Bloody hell, Mum."

"That's a fairly apt description of what you're going to see," she said grimly.

"Fuck," he hissed and ran a hand down his face. "I can't just skip that bit?"

"Thomas says no."

"So, this is Director Greene's decision."

Hermione shook her head. "Not entirely, no. The other Unspeakables as well as the Minister of Magic and the head of the Wizengamot also weigh in on what's included in the Pensieve."

"Didn't you say no?"

"I would have, had I been consulted, but I was excluded because you're in the trials. It wouldn't have mattered anyway. It's the worst accident in over a hundred years, of course, it'll be in the safety review."

"There's no way around it then?"

"No."

"Bloody hell," Art said again.

Hermione sighed. "Are you sure you want this?"

"I thought you loved your job," he said.

She sighed. "I love you. I love your father and our family and friends. I don't love my job and based on today, it doesn't love me either."

He frowned at her. "You know what I mean."

"I do and yes, it's compelling, but also problematic. I just want you to be sure this is what you want."

Art pushed his fingers back through his hair and blew out a frustrated breath. "Well, you have set a high bar."

"But I haven't," his mother argued. "There is no bar. You walk your own path."

"Oh, please," Art scoffed. "There is so a bar. You have no idea what it's like to be your son. At every turn there are comparisons."

Hermione shook her head. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Chase me. It's not a competition."

"Of course, you think that, you've already made your place in the world. It looks far different from where I am," he said, scowling.

Hermione sighed. "Do what you like but do it because you want to do it and not because you think it's what I expect or what other people expect. My path to this job was very different from yours."

"Yes, I know. Everyone knows. Life in the shadow of the Golden Trio isn't exactly a picnic. Just ask Clive and Devin."

Hermione frowned at him. "Being in the Golden Trio is no picnic either. But it's not as though any of us knew that ahead of time. I didn't know what my life would be like because I made friends with Ron and Harry. Just like I didn't know what your life would be like when I had you. We make the choices we make and then events happen around us and we react to them. That's life: you do what you can and then roll with the things you can't control."

Art frowned at her. "That's a very different tune from the one you used to sing."

She arched an eyebrow at him.

"You used to go on quite a bit about choices and making good decisions and thoughtful living. Now what? You just roll with it?"

Hermione chuckled. "Yes. Sometimes you just roll with it, because while making thoughtful decisions is always a smart move when you have a choice, you don't always have a choice. I'm afraid you're going to see that played out rather graphically tomorrow."

Art leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair again. "I don't want to see it."

She sighed. "Me either, but it looks like we're going to."

"What?" Art said, clearly appalled. "They're making you watch too?"

"It's an all-hands meeting for safety this year to review and debrief the accident."

Art shook his head. "And they won't let you out of it?"

"They said I didn't have to watch, but I'm obviously a critical part of the debriefing, so I think I'm going to."

Art looked horrified.

She gave him a sympathetic smile. "I should go home. I'll see you tomorrow."

Art nodded numbly and she saw herself out.

xXx

Thomas delivered the safety lecture for the Department of Mysteries and Hermione thought it was the least dry lecture she'd heard on the subject in the last two decades. When it became apparent that he was coming to the end of his speech, she could feel her hands start to sweat, her chest tighten, and her mouth go dry. She watched Art walk out of the room with the other remaining recruit followed by the Unspeakables in order of seniority youngest to oldest. She and Thomas weren't the oldest Unspeakables but as Director and Assistant Director they were last out of the room.

Thomas paused at the door. "Are you sure you want to do this? We could just meet you back here for the debriefing."

Hermione frowned at him. "Of course, I don't want to do this? Do you?"

He shook his head. "Right. Come on then."

They went down the black tiled corridor to a vast room with a Pensieve large enough for thirty people to stick their heads in at the same time. All around the enormous, shallow, stone basin was a cushioned kneeler. Hermione knelt next to Thomas. Across the room she could see Art kneeling, but he wouldn't look at her. She didn't blame him. Just being in the room was hard enough. Thomas announced the first memory, an incident from four hundred years ago.

They looked at fifteen memories before it was time to view her accident. She was already exhausted and distressed as she looked around at the faces of everyone else in the room and could see they felt the same. Despite the fact that she'd seen the other memories before, none of them were easy to watch. All the accidents were horrific and some resulted in gruesome deaths, but none of the people in those memories were in the room. She looked at the two young Unspeakables that had cast the spell that lead to her accident. They both looked rather green. She knew how they felt. She didn't look at Art. She couldn't and get through the next few minutes.

Grim faced, Thomas said, "And now we're at our final memory for the day. As most of you know, this is an incident that happened at the end of last year. Two of our members submitted a proposal to cast an enhancing circle for another spell they were constructing. The proposal was reviewed and approved, but during the execution two runes were transposed: the rune for wind and the rune for fire." A disturbed murmur ran through the group. Thomas produced the bottled memories. "This is an amalgamated memory from three of the people involved." He tipped the silvery liquid into the Pensieve. "Faces in."

Everyone leaned forward and dipped their faces into the stone basin.

xXx

The memory started out benignly enough. The two young Unspeakables were drawing a glowing circle on the stone floor with their wands. When they were done, Hermione stuck her head in the door.

"I'm going to pop out for lunch. I'll be back."

"Alright," one of the young men said. "We're about to start casting."

Hermione glanced at the circle on the floor. "Sounds good." She closed the door behind her and the two wizards raised their wands.

Less than a minute later the door was yanked open and Hermione shouted, "Stop!" but it was too late. They had finished casting the spell. The floor in the middle of the circle began to buckle.

"What the hell?" one of the wizards said.

Hermione's eyes grew wide. She pulled her wand and threw herself into the circle. She cast a shield charm and it covered the circle with a shimmering dome. Inside, she could be seen casting spell after spell. At first, she seemed to have it under control, but then the floor burst up and into the shield. It wasn't flame that buckled the floor and pressed her against her own shield but pure magic. Her body seemed to absorb it all but then it blew out of her, shattering her wand, and then tearing through her scars, her mouth, her ears, every available exit, but the shield held. The younger wizards had the presence of mind to draw their own wands and were reinforcing Hermione's shield to keep the raw magic from blowing through the entire department, but the effort over taped them and they both Spliffed and fell unconscious. Finally, the shield collapsed and Hermione dropped in a bloody heap to the floor. The resulting shock wave alerted the rest of the department. Thomas was the first on the scene. He shouted Hermione's name and dropped to his knees next to her. He cradled her in his arms and shouted to the witch behind him, "Get those two to St. Mungo's." With that he Disapparated with Hermione.

The memory ended and everyone pulled their faces out of the water. They all continued kneeling there in stunned silence.

Thomas cleared his throat. "There will be a debriefing in the conference room in ten minutes."

There was a palpable sense of relief as people began to exit the room. Finally, only Art, Thomas, and Hermione were left. Hermione stood and straightened her robes. She looked at Thomas. "Did I ever thank you for that?"

"No need," Thomas said. "Just doing my job."

Hermione hugged him. "You saved my life."

"You saved mine and everyone else's first."

She smiled. "Including my own."

"Right," Thomas said, smiling back. "I'll see you in a few minutes."

Hermione nodded. Art was walking around the Pensieve toward her. Thomas closed the door behind him as he left the room.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked Art. He shook his head. She held out her arms and he leaned down and hugged her. He was an inch taller than Ron now but he tucked his face into the crook of her neck as he'd down as a child.

"Oh, Mum," he cried.

"My beautiful boy," she whispered and held him for a long moment.

He stood up and wiped his face with his sleeve. "I knew it would be awful. I didn't expect it to be that awful."

She stroked his cheek with her fingers. "I know, but I'm alright now."

He nodded. "But still, that was rough."

"Yeah, I don't think I'll watch it again next year," she said.

"Do you think they'll make me?"

"So sure you're going to make it all the way, are you?"

He gave her a cheeky grin. "I am your son."

She snorted softly. "Right. Well, I'll see what I can do about seeing that neither of us have to watch it again."

"Thanks, Mum."

"Yeah, yeah," she waved him off. "You should get in there. I'll be along in a moment."

When Art had closed the door behind him, Hermione sat down hard on one of the kneelers. A shiver ran through her and she leaned forward with her head between her knees and breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth until she could calm down. Despite knowing what had happened, she had been unprepared to see herself come that close to death. Somehow it was worse to watch it from someone else's point of view. When she could, she stood and smoothed her robes before walking into the conference room. She took her seat at the head table between Thomas and one of the young wizard's who'd drawn the circle that had led to the accident. He looked away when she sat down. On the other side of him the other wizard who'd been involved had his head down.

Thomas gave her a sympathetic look before taking the podium.

He spoke briefly about what they'd all just seen and then asked if there were any questions for Hermione or the other two wizards. Every hand in the room shot into the air except for Art's. He sat hollow-eyed at the back of the room.

Thomas called on Ellis, the oldest witch in the room. She stood and said in a clear voice, "Once you cast the shield you continued casting spells beneath it. What spells were those?"

Hermione took the podium and cleared her throat. "I cast several spells to stop the fire and control the heat, a dowsing spell, a cooling charm, and a freezing charm. After that, I cast Protego and Impervious on myself." The old witch nodded. She muttered, "Very clever," as she sat down.

Thomas called on a young wizard next. He stood and said, "So you controlled the fire then?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, but not the magic. It was an enhancing circle. I was able to convert the conflagration back to pure magic but there was nowhere for that all that magic to go except into me because of the shield I'd cast over the circle."

"Ah," the young wizard said and sat down.

Hermione swallowed hard and waited.

Thomas called on the next Unspeakable, a young witch. "Why didn't Protego and Impervious protect you?" she asked.

"They did," Hermione said quietly. "Or I wouldn't be standing here."

"But the magic blew through you," the witch said.

"Right, along easy paths. Had I not cast Protego and Impervious, it simply would have blown me to bits. The spells maintained my physical integrity as well as they could. My wand didn't have the same coverage and you saw what happened to it."

The witch nodded in understanding and sat down.

The next few questions were for the wizards who'd drawn the initial circle. They took a beating for the cockup, but in the end the whole thing was just a typo.

When all the pertinent questions had been asked and people were just starting to pile on, Thomas called an end to it and sent everyone home.

xXx

When Ron arrived home that night he found Hermione in the parlor sitting on the sofa with her elbows on her knees and her chin resting in her hands. She was staring at a bottle of Ogden's Fire Whiskey that was on the coffee table.

"Hullo luv," Ron ventured.

"Hi," Hermione said, her eyes not leaving the bottle.

"I take it your day was as rough as you thought it would be," he said.

"Rougher," she replied.

"Thinking of having a drink, are you?" Ron asked as he sat down in one of the wing chairs.

"No. I'm thinking of having the whole bottle or as much as I can down until I pass out."

"That doesn't seem like a good plan," he said.

"I know. That's why I've been staring at this bottle for over an hour."

"Right," Ron said, nodding.

"I'm lucky to be alive," Hermione said.

"Yes, you are."

"Why can't I just appreciate that? Why did I go buy whiskey?"

Ron sighed and stroked his beard. "I reckon you can be grateful and still have a day rough enough to send you running for the bottle. Do you want to drink that?"

"No, but I don't want to be sober either."

Ron nodded. "I know that feeling."

She looked at him. "I know you do. Winky?" The little elf appeared. "Could you take that bottle of fire whiskey and pour it down the drain?"

"Yes, Miss." Winky said. She and the bottle both disappeared.

"Good call," Ron said.

"Thanks. I'll likely buy another one tomorrow," Hermione said.

Ron shrugged. "Lucky for you, I've got money to burn. Pour all the whiskey you want down the drain."

"And if it doesn't all go down the drain?"

Ron shrugged again. "Then we'll dry you out and start again. We've done it before."

She sighed and closed her eyes. "I don't want to do it again."

"Me neither, but we can if we have to."

She nodded and reached for his hand without opening her eyes.

He took her hand and laced his fingers with hers. "You're going to be okay."

There was a knock on the front door.

Ron groaned and stood. "If this is Viktor with more mementos from your time together—"

Hermione snorted. "Stop it."

Ron chuckled and went to see who was at the door.

Art and Emma were standing on the front stoop.

"Why didn't you just Apparate into the kitchen?" Ron asked as he ushered them in.

"Because Mum's had an awful day. I never know how you two are going to handle that and I've been traumatized enough today," Art said dryly.

Ron paused for a moment and then said, "Yeah, that's fair." Art was holding a small box in his hand. "What have you got there?"

"A gift for Mum. I was going to bring flowers, but…I don't know…and wine was out, so…" He held up the box.

"Right," Ron said. "Come through, I'm sure she'll be happy to see you. It seems like the sort of evening for family."

"That's what I thought," Art said as he and Emma followed Ron into the parlor.

Hermione stood and hugged them both.

Art held the box out to his mother. "I thought you needed this."

Hermione was surprised he'd shown up with a present. She opened the box to find a folded black T-shirt.

"I think you should skip the formal robes at work from now on," Art said. "And wear this shirt and jeans instead."

She set the box down and pulled the shirt out. On the front in white lettering in a gothic font was written 'Badass Witch.' She laughed.

Ron did too. "I think that's the perfect work shirt."

"I don't think Thomas would approve," Hermione said smiling.

"Oh, please," Art said. "After what you've done, you could show up barefoot in sackcloth and no one would say a thing. Besides, there's that old guy who's in his pajamas most of the time."

"He's a hundred and forty-five years old and still actively engaged in projects. He can wear what he likes," Hermione said.

"The Department of Mysteries sounds completely mental," Emma said. "You know that, right?"

"It's not as weird as it sounds," Hermione said.

"No," Ron said. "It's weirder. Come on, let's see if Winky will make us dinner."


	7. Oliver

**Oliver**

That weekend the family gathered at the Burrow for Sunday dinner. As Art and Emma stood talking to Clive and Devin, Art kept glancing over at his parents who were talking with Harry, Ginny, George and Karl. He noticed his father's hand was on the small of his mother's back. They had always been affectionate but his father seemed a lot more solicitous for the last several months and his mother seemed a lot more fragile. Having seen the memory of her accident, he now understood why. He wished he could tell Emma and Clive and Devin exactly what he'd seen. It was hard not to be able to talk about it with them. For the first time, he really understood what his mother had meant by the burden of secrets.

On the other side of the garden, Denis was talking to George, Angelina and their son John. Art sighed. He didn't know how to feel about having a half-brother. Denis was a nice enough guy, but it was difficult to think of him as family. He saw his Uncle George put a hand on Denis' shoulder and walk him over to Ron. A moment later, they were all talking and Art wondered what that was about.

xXx

As the evening was wrapping up and family members were starting to leave, Art approached his mother.

"Do you mind if Emma and I stay with you two for a while? They've started doing renovations on the building next door and it's so bloody loud it's hard to study."

"Of course, you can," his mother said warmly.

"Great," Art said. "We'll be over in an hour or so." As he and Emma walked into the house to take the Floo, since they'd both been drinking, they heard Ron laugh and say to Percy, "Maybe it's time there was a Kenyan branch of Wealey's Enchanted Electronics. We sell an awful lot of product in Africa."

xXx

Later that night, Hermione heard Art and Emma pop into the kitchen. A moment later Art came into the parlor followed by Emma. He flopped onto the sofa. "Where's Dad?"

"Downstairs working in his shop," Hermione said, setting aside the book she'd been reading.

Emma looked from Art to his mother. "I think I'm going to go up and take a shower."

Art nodded. "Yeah alright."

"Everything you need should already be in the bathroom, but if not, just call for Winky."

"Thanks," Emma said and headed upstairs.

"Did Perry come with you?" Hermione asked.

"No," Art lowered his voice. "You know he doesn't get along that well with his mum, he said he'd rather stay at the flat and to call him if we need him."

Hermione nodded. "It does seem to get a bit dicey with more than one elf around. Harry had a terrible time with Kreacher and Dobby until the house in Godric's Hollow was rebuilt. Now Dobby stays there and Kreacher stays at Grimmauld Place and there are no more issues."

"Smart," Art said.

Ron came into the parlor. "You're here, I thought I heard something."

"Yeah," Art said.

"Where's Emma," Ron asked.

"Shower," Art said.

Ron sat on the other wing chair next to Hermione. "Did they tell you how long the renovations were going to take?"

"Shouldn't be more than a week."

Ron nodded. "Good. I know this is inconvenient for you two with your studies. Your Mum and I will try and keep it down," he joked.

Art didn't laugh. "So, you're all on board with my studies now, are you?"

"Yeah," Ron said, glancing at Hermione. "You're a grown man. You can choose your own career."

"Right," Art said. "Besides what does it matter what I do now that you've got a spare?"

"How's that?"

"I heard what you said to Uncle Percy about opening a branch of the shop in Kenya," Art said.

Ron smiled. "I was joking. Denis is finishing up his Gringotts internship next week and he wanted to know if he could spend a few days at the shop to see what it's like to work in private industry before he goes back to Kenya to do a temporary assignment in their Ministry of Magic."

"That's great then," Art said, but it was clear from his tone that he wasn't at all happy. "You'll be showing Denis the ropes. I'm glad you two have it all sorted."

"Denis and I don't have anything sorted. Denis specifically doesn't have anything sorted. He's three years into his gap year. He doesn't know what he wants to do. He asked what it was like to work with charmed objects for a living, so yeah, I said he could come work with me for a few days. Is that a problem?" Ron asked with undisguised irritation.

"No problem," Art said. "I'm Mum's son now anyway, right?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Ron said, his voice rising.

"Ron," Hermione said quietly.

Ron stared at her. "He's my bloody son too." He turned back to Art. "You doubt that, look in the mirror!"

"It's not like it matters anymore?" Art said, standing. "Denis shows an interest and suddenly who cares what I'm doing. A few months ago, you were all bent out of shape over me being an Unspeakable, but now it's fine because if something happens to the heir, no matter, you've got a spare."

Shocked, Ron looked up at him. "You think I don't care what happens to you, because I have another son? Are you mental?" He got to his feet and faced off against Art. "I don't want you to be a bloody Unspeakable." He poked Art in the chest. "I fucking hate the Department of Mysteries! HATE IT! If I had my way neither one of you would ever step foot in that place again, but it's not my bloody decision, is it? No, I just get to wait around to pick up the pieces and hope the next time there are still pieces to pick up and that I won't be left with nothing." He looked from Art to Hermione. "I'm going out."

"Ron," Hermione pleaded, but he ignored her, grabbed his broom and was out the back door and into the night. She turned to Art. "Well, thanks for that. Any particular reason you're being such a complete prat tonight?"

Art flopped on the sofa and scowled at her, looking very much like he did at thirteen.

Hermione frowned at him. "And why are you picking fights with your father when it's clearly me you're mad at?"

"How did Director Greene Disapparate with you to St. Mungo's? I thought it was impossible to Apparate into and out of the Ministry."

The change of subject threw Hermione off for a moment, but she quickly recovered, realizing that it wasn't really a change of subject at all. "Most people can't Apparate into or out of the Ministry."

"Can you?"

Hermione sighed. "Probably."

"Then why don't you?" Art said, still scowling.

"For the same reason Thomas doesn't on a daily basis. It's not allowed except in emergencies."

Art wrinkled his brow. "So, it's a matter of permission?"

"Not exactly. It's more an issue of ability. Normally, someone my age wouldn't be able to do that yet, but I'm exceptionally gifted in Apparition."

"And Director Greene is too?"

"Yes. He's also six years older than I am and a very powerful wizard."

Art considered this. "So, there are other Unspeakables who can do that?"

"Yes, and some who can't. There are a few other mature witches and wizards, some who work for the Ministry, and some who don't who could also Apparate in and out of the Ministry if they wanted to."

"So, wards are…"

"Protection against most witches and wizards, but not all."

Art's eyes widened in shock. "So, power correlates with age and ability?"

"Not entirely. Magic is about innate ability and maturity, but also study, a tremendous amount of study. As you know, without a huge knowledge of spells, all the ability and maturity in the world won't help you. All three are required to be among the most powerful."

"And you are."

"For my age, yes, and in some regards like Apparition, beyond my age."

"But Ellis asked questions during the debriefing and she's ancient. Shouldn't she have known what you were casting?"

"She asked those questions so she could advise me later. This week we've talked quite a bit about shield charms which are a specialty of hers."

Art raised his eyebrows. "I thought shield charms were a specialty of yours."

"I produce a strong shield to be sure, but not anything like what Ellis can do, although, I hope to be as good as her when I'm her age."

Art looked confused. "I don't…"

"Look, if Ellis had seen what I saw in that Enhancing circle, she would've cast a shield over it without having to be on top of it and she could have cast the cooling charms from outside of the shield. Not to mention she wouldn't have needed the other two to reinforce her shield so they wouldn't have Spliffed. In short, if Ellis had been there instead of me, it would've been a much better outcome."

"But you saved a lot of lives."

"Yes, at a high personal cost because I'm not yet forty. I haven't even finished the first third of my life. In magical terms, I'm still a child, a talented child, but still a child. Ellis would have saved everyone and walked away unscathed and gone right back to whatever project she was working on. Alas, they got me instead."

Art ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head.

"Now you want to tell me why you're being such a prat to your dad?"

Art closed his eyes for a moment. "It's just...I don't know…it's like that Denis guy shows up and all of sudden…"

"Rubbish, nothing about your father's behavior toward you has changed since Denis turned up. What's this really about?"

Art looked at her. "It's just he said from the beginning that the Department of Mysteries was dangerous, but I thought…"

"You thought he was exaggerating," Hermione said.

Art had the decency to look chagrined. "Yeah."

Hermione sighed. "Look there's no shame in leaving the program. If you don't want to do this, don't do it. Lots of candidates leave before they finish."

"I don't know what I want," Art said.

"Listen, I know you saw some horrific things in the Pensieve but recognize that those incidents took place over a four-hundred-year time span and there were only sixteen of them. I've worked there twenty years and only managed to blow myself up once." She smiled.

Art looked stricken. "Too soon Mum."

Hermione nodded. "Yeah, okay. But seriously, your father blames the department for pain that isn't the department's fault. None of the incidents that scarred me happened in the DoM. And when I perform magic there that hurts, well, that's my choice, but I live with pain all the time. The work I do, helps make it bearable by engaging me completely. The thing is your father lives with his own share of pain but figuring out how to charm electronics to work in our world gets him away from that pain and engrossed in something else. The Department of Mysteries does the same for me, he just doesn't like it." She smiled at her son. "But you, my darling, don't have those kinds of problems. You can do anything you like and you shouldn't feel compelled to do what we do unless you want to. It's not a binary choice, Art. You don't either have to work at your Dad's shop or become an Unspeakable. There are other jobs in the world."

"I know. But the Department of Mysteries is so…so…"

Hermione smiled. "I know but is that enough to offset the drawbacks. Only you can decide."

Art nodded. "I've got a lot to think about."

"Yes, but first you need to apologize to your father when he comes back because you were completely unfair and bloody horrible to him."

"Right. I will. I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm such a prat."

Hermione snorted and stood. "Apparently, it's because your parents spoiled you."

Art smiled. "Yeah, that's probably it."

She kissed the top of his head. "Goodnight. I'm going to go up and read in bed."

"Goodnight Mum," Art said.

xXx

When Ron came in an hour later, Art was waiting for him in the parlor. The night had turned chilly, so he had the fire going and was drinking a cup of tea. Ron set his broom down in the corner of the room and walked over to the fire to warm himself. He didn't say anything to Art, he just stood facing the fire enjoying the heat.

Art poured a second cup of tea and went to stand by his father. He held out the cup. "I'm really sorry about earlier. Denis is a good bloke and I'm glad you're the kind of Dad who wants to know all his children."

Ron looked at him and took the cup. "Good."

Art sighed. "Thing is Dad, when I watched Mum's accident and all the others…well…I'm ashamed to say…it really rattled me."

Ron nodded and sipped his tea. "Yeah, I imagine it would."

"But I keep thinking…Mum saw those same accidents…and it didn't rattle her, did it? She just kept plowing ahead."

Ron let out a soft snort.

"What?" Art said.

"Artie, by the time your Mum saw those memories, she'd seen so much worse stuff. Of course, she took it in her stride, which isn't to say she didn't take what she saw seriously. Your mum is very serious about safety."

"Maybe, but she's not afraid of anything. Neither of you are. You just keep going."

Ron chuckled softly. "We're afraid of plenty, but you can't let fear stop you from getting what you want. Even if what you want really worries your old man."

Art looked at him, concern etched across his features. "You know I'm not pursuing being an Unspeakable just to get your goat or anything. It's not about that."

Ron put a hand on his shoulder. "I know."

"It's not about Mum either," He shook his head. "I mean, maybe it was in the beginning, trying to prove something, but now…I don't know Dad…it's so…so…"

"Compelling?" Ron guessed.

"Yeah," Art said. "It really is."

Ron let out a heavy sigh. "I know, son. I know. I've been hearing that for years."

"I'm sorry, but I think I have to see this through."

"Of course, you do. I wouldn't expect any less of you.

xXx

A few minutes later, Ron opened the door to the bedroom he shared with Hermione. She set aside the book she was reading. "How was your flight?" she asked.

"Cold," Ron said. "The temperature is really dropping after the sun goes down now and I forgot my gloves."

She peeled back the covers on the bed. "Climb in and I'll warm you up."

Ron grinned and began pulling off his clothes. He slid in next to her and she squealed as he wrapped around her and buried his cold nose in her neck.

xXx

Art was climbing the stairs up to his room when he heard his mother squeal. He shook his head. He wondered if everyone's parents were like that. At least Emma was waiting for him upstairs. He smiled to himself. Maybe he'd make her squeal.

xXx

Hermione was laughing and squirming trying to get away from Ron. "You said you were cold not frozen solid."

Ron hugged her tighter. "You said you'd warm me up."

Finally, she got a hand free and grabbed her wand and recited a warming charm.

He let out a grateful moan. "Oh, that's the stuff."

"Better?" she asked.

"Much." He kissed her neck.

She giggled at the tickling of his whiskers as she set her wand back on the nightstand.

"You're using your wand a lot lately," he said.

"I'm a witch, Ron," she teased. "Remember?"

He kissed the back of her neck again. "I do. But you've been using your wand a lot to cast spells you generally cast without it." When she didn't offer an explanation, he said, "Why is that?"

She sighed and rolled over in his arms so she could look at him. "I went to see Michelle last month and she wasn't pleased with my progress.

He frowned. "You haven't put any weight back on."

"That's not true. I have put on a few pounds…just not enough. She feels like my reserves are low and that I'm in danger of Spliffing if I cast anything too complicated."

"Okay," Ron said slowly. "But it's not as if you have plans to cast anything complicated because…" He frowned at her. "What have you done?"

She shook her head. "I haven't done anything. But I have had a thought."

"Bloody hell, Hermione," he said, letting go of her and getting out of bed. "You promised you wouldn't be doing any practical magic. You promised!"

"And I haven't done," she said, sitting up.

"But you're planning on it."

"No…no I'm not. Thinking about it, maybe. Because I have an idea, a rather good idea, and at some point, many months, possibly years from now, I might need to do a bit of practical magic to implement it."

Ron pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "Would it be possible for you and Art to coordinate this shit a little better. I've only just sorted out this business with him and now you're starting."

"I'm not starting anything. Michelle just suggested that I use my wand as a way to expend less energy so I can build up my reserves. Not for use anytime soon—"

"But eventually even though you promised…" He gritted his teeth. "You promised you were only going to review projects."

"Yes…I know…but that was before I had this idea."

He glared at her.

"What? I can't control when I have an idea," she said. "It's not like I meant to have it. It just popped into my head."

"And I suppose you can't tell me what it is."

She bit her bottom lip. "You know I can't. At least not any time soon. If it works out though…"

He closed his eyes again and counted to ten, trying to calm down, when all he wanted to do was scream at her. "So," he said, as calmly as he could manage. "This idea, is it the sort that's going to leave you stumbling out of the fireplace late at night or the sort that lands you in St. Mungo's."

Hermione got to her knees and crawled to the foot of the bed to face him. "Neither. It's not aggressive magic, but at some point, in the very distant future, I might need more of a magical reserve than I currently have. That's all."

He shook his head. "That's never all."

She sighed. "But it is. I've done dozens of projects, the vast majority of which left me completely unscathed, but you never remember any of that. You only seem to remember the bad days at the Ministry and none of the perfectly humdrum days when I'd come home and we'd have dinner and put Art to bed and nothing bad happened. There were loads of days like that Ron, many, many more of those days than of the other sort.

He took her face in his hands and pressed his forehead to hers. "What am I going to do with you?"

She tilted her head back and kissed him. "You're going to love me, like you've always loved me, right?"

He sighed and kissed her back. "Right." He crawled on the bed with her and took her face in his hands again. "But please, please…we've only just got you sorted."

She sighed and pulled his hands down. "That's just it. I am sorted. It's liberating."

He frowned at her. "And let me guess, it's opened your mind to new possibilities."

"It has," she said, smiling.

He flopped on his back and stared at the ceiling. "Great," he said grimly.

She crawled on top of him, straddling him with her legs. "It is great." She bent over and kissed him.

He put his hands on her hips. "Convince me."

She smiled at him, that little smile she had, the one that still made his cock throb. "Oh, I will."

He knew she was right. She always managed to work him around to her side. He was too bloody easy, that was the problem.

xXx

The next morning, Ron was eating his breakfast and going through the post when Hermione came in. He handed her an envelope. "This came for you."

She sat down and a cup of tea and a plate of eggs and toast appeared in front of her. "Thank you, Winky," she said and looked at the envelope, which was navy blue and the lettering on the front was in gold. It was sealed with wax pressed with crossed bulrushes. Frowning, she opened it. She was surprised to see it was from Oliver Wood and not Viktor. She didn't have much contact with Oliver beyond their yearly Christmas card exchange, although she had seen him when she'd gone by the Puddlemere United training facility to release Viktor from his bond earlier in the year.

"So, what does Viktor want?" Ron grumbled.

"It's not from him. It's from Oliver and he wants to meet me for lunch this afternoon at the Leaky Cauldron."

"Really?" Ron said, raising his eyebrows. "Why?"

"He says he needs to ask me a favor." She bit off the corner of a piece of toast.

"Oh, bloody hell," Ron groused. "Doesn't anyone go to the Portkey Office anymore?"

She laughed. "I doubt it's that. Besides, only family asks me for Portkeys. Problem is, your family is so large, it seems like everyone."

"Well, that's certainly true," Ron said, returning to sorting the post. "So, are you going?"

"Why wouldn't I? Oliver is a good guy."

Ron glanced at her. "And Viktor's best friend."

"Actually, now that you mention it, I bet it has something to do with Viktor. He's probably planning something for the new baby."

"And he's contacting you? Why?"

Hermione shrugged. "Who knows? Probably needs help with a bit of magic. That's why people usually contact me."

"Alright then," Ron said. "Don't promise to do anything spectacular though, alright? You don't need to push it."

She frowned at him. "I'm fine. You fret too much."

He cut his eyes at her. "And you don't fret enough."

She squeezed his hand. The rest of breakfast went by in companionable silence.

When Hermione left for work, Ron called for Winky. "We need to talk about Hermione," Ron told the little elf when she appeared.

"Yes, Mr. Ron," Winky said, giving him her full attention.

"She was meant to put back on twenty pounds when she got out of hospital, but she's only put on five. I want her back on a regular feeding schedule."

"Miss didn't like the feeding schedule."

Ron nodded. "I know she didn't, but she needs to be eating more than she is, so I'm reinstating it. Do you understand? I don't care where she is. Three meals and three snacks and another at midnight if she's awake."

Winky's ear's drooped. "Yes, Mr. Ron."

xXx

At half ten that morning, Hermione went to file some parchment and when she turned around, Winky was standing on her desk. Hermione cried out in surprise and held a hand over her heart.

"Bloody hell, Winky! You'll give me a heart attack." Her eyes widened. "Wait, what's wrong? Why are you here?"

Winky snapped her fingers. A cup of tea and a plate of cheese and apple slices appeared.

Hermione frowned. "Ron's put me back on a feeding schedule, hasn't he?"

Winky's ears drooped.

Hermione sighed and picked up a piece of apple. She smiled tenderly at Winky. "Thanks for this."

Winky looked relieved and her ears perked back up. "Miss is not angry then?"

"No, of course not." Hermione smiled at her tenderly. "And never at you. You're the best. Besides, Ron is right. I thought I was doing fine on my own, but I backslid a bit returning to work. This is probably for the best. Thank you."

Winky beamed at her. "Yes Miss." She disappeared.

Hermione drank her tea and ate her snack while she continued reading and making notes on a project that had been submitted for approval.

Just before one the cat-shaped clock on the wall opened its eyes, meowed, and reminded her to go to lunch. She headed up to the streets of London.

xXx

The Leaky Cauldron was busy on the magical side. Since it had come under new management after the war, the magical side was expanded and much more welcoming. The Muggle side remained as grim as ever. Hermione looked around the room and finally saw Oliver sitting in a booth near the back and made her way over.

"Hermione!" Oliver said, standing and giving her a hug.

"How are you Oliver?" Hermione said, sliding into the booth opposite him.

"Fantastic! Absolutely bloody fantastic. I'm getting married."

"No!" Hermione teased. "I can't believe it. Surely there still must be women somewhere that you haven't managed to date."

Oliver laughed. "I'm sure that's true, but it doesn't matter. I've found the one and typically she's been right under my nose the whole time."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Do tell."

"I will, but let's order first. I'm starving," he said.

Hermione picked up her menu and ran her wand across the entry for cottage pie. A huge pitcher of ale was floating around the room as was a large tea pot. Oliver held up the pint glass in front of him and the pitcher floated over and filled it. Hermione turned over her tea cup and the tea pot sailed over and did the same for her.

Now situated, Oliver continued. "So, thing is, I've been dating Pietra for the last year."

Hermione was surprised to hear that. "Really?"

Oliver laughed again. "Yeah, I know. But, well, we've run into each other a million times at this party or that event. She and Viktor are close and since her husband died, did you know his cousin Todor?"

Hermione felt her stomach tighten. She nodded. "Yeah, we went on holiday several times with them."

"Oh, right, course," Oliver said. "So, you know how Viktor is, Pietra didn't have any family left after the war, and then when her husband died, Viktor made sure to invite her to everything, you know?"

"That sounds like him."

Oliver grinned. "Yeah, he's a teddy bear at heart, that one."

Hermione smiled tightly.

"So, I've been talking to her for well-nigh twenty years or so, but then I don't know, about a year ago, we were at this charity do and I was so relieved to see her there so I'd have someone fun to talk to and it just hit me that I always felt like that. That seeing her was always the best part of those things and so I asked her out and—" he laughed. "For some bloody reason, she agreed to go and here we are."

"That's brilliant Oliver," Hermione said warmly. Now that she'd had a moment to digest it, she could see Pietra and Oliver as a couple.

He sat across from her just grinning.

"In your note you mentioned a favor," she prompted.

"Right, right," Oliver said. "Well, for years Pietra has been hearing about that tropical party I threw at my parents' place, remember that?"

Hermione pursed her lips. "Hard to forget that party."

Oliver grinned again. "I know, right? So anyway, she's said several times how she wishes she'd been there to see it, so for our engagement party, I'd like to recreate it."

"Oh," Hermione said. "Well, that's…what did Viktor say?"

"He said he would if you would and I've got Neville on board for the foliage and Luna's going to do the lion again, and Fred and George have agreed to do the exterior of the house. Dean's got the music covered and I'll handle all the tents and decorations." Two plates came sailing over to the table. Fish and chips landed in front of Oliver.

The cottage pie dropped down in front of Hermione. "It sounds like you've got it all worked out."

"I have, you're the last piece of the puzzle," Oliver said, picking up a chip.

"Right," she said. She could hear Ron yelling now about casting such a large illusion, but it's not like it would be that taxing. It wasn't even new magic. She'd done it before. It was more the way it had to be cast that bothered her.

"And listen," Oliver continued. "Come the day before to do the spells, stay the night for a big dinner, and then for the party the next day. Bring Ron. It'll be a good time."

Hermione smiled at him. "I'm sure it will be. I'd love to say yes, but I need to check a few things before I can commit. Is it alright if I let you know tomorrow?"

"Of course, of course," Oliver said.

They finished their lunch happily catching up on mutual friends and acquaintances.

xXx

That night when Ron stepped out of the fire place at half six, Hermione was waiting for him in the parlor.

"How was your day?" she asked as he picked up the newspaper she'd left on his chair.

"Good," he said, frowning at the headlines. He tossed the paper on the hassock and dropped down into his chair. "How was lunch with Oliver? What did he want?"

"Well," Hermione said, "he had some very surprising news."

Ron turned toward her. "Yeah?"

"He's getting married."

Ron snorted. "Good for him. Finally found a witch that would have him, eh?"

"Yes," Hermione said.

"So, who's the lucky bird?" He looked at her and wrinkled his forehead in mock concern. "Do we think she's lucky?"

Hermione chuckled. "I think she probably is. I know he is. And they've known each other a long time so they should both know what they're getting into."

"Who is she?" Ron asked.

"Pietra."

Ron gave her a blank look.

"Todor's wife."

Ron's eyes widened. "Oh. Well, that's great then. Was she there?"

"No, she's packing up house this week. She's moving in with him and they're having a tremendous engagement party at his parents' estate in Scotland next weekend."

"Great," Ron said, reaching for the paper.

"We're invited," Hermione added.

"Oh. Do you want to go?"

"Yes—"

"Alright then." He opened the paper to the sports page.

She smiled at him. "Good, but…"

Ron lowered the paper. "But?"

"Oliver asked for a favor. He wants to recreate a party he had ages ago. It's kind of legendary in Quidditch circles and Pietra has been hearing about it for years, so he wants to do it again for their engagement."

"What's that to do with you?" Ron asked.

"The whole theme of the party was a tropical island but his parents' estate is in Scotland so—"

"Massive illusion," Ron said, frowning. "No way can you pull off something like that right now."

"Oh, I didn't do all of it. That would be too much for one person, even me. I don't think you get the scale of this party. Anyway, I did the ocean. He's asked me to do it again."

Ron's frown deepened. "That sounds like a lot of magic."

She shook her head. "It's not. I've done it before. It's not nothing, but it's manageable. I'll have big breakfast before I start. Not to mention I'll probably be in good shape by then since you've reinstituted my feeding schedule. Thanks for mentioning you were doing that, by the way. Winky popped into my office this morning and almost gave me a heart attack."

Ron didn't even pretend to be sorry. "It needed doing."

Hermione sighed. "I don't disagree. It just would be nice to be informed when you make these decisions. I suppose consulted would be too much to ask."

"It would be," he said crossly. "You're not to be trusted when it comes to making decisions about your health, which is why I'm not sure you should be doing this illusion."

"It's really not a big deal," she insisted. "At least not magically anyway."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She picked at the fabric of the arm chair. "Well, the ocean has to be cast at the same time as the sand or it won't be seamless and the illusion will be rubbish."

"Oh, come on," Ron said. "If you're doing the ocean and the beach that's definitely too much."

"You're right. That's too much for one person."

"Well, then…"

"Viktor cast the beach last time."

"Oh," Ron said, understanding. "You cast them together."

"Right," Hermione said, glancing at him.

"That's kind of—"

"I know," she said, shaking her head.

"What did Viktor say?" Ron asked.

"He said he would if I would, but I don't know if he said that because he was sure I'd say no or if he really is fine to do it either way," she said, wrinkling her brow. "How do you feel about that?"

Ron stroked his beard. "And no one else could do it?"

"They could, but it's a complex illusion. It took Viktor and I weeks of practice to get it right. No one else has that kind of time. The party is meant to be next weekend, which is why Oliver is going around gathering the same people who pulled it off last time."

"Right," Ron said. "So how do you feel?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. It's not that big of a deal."

He raised his eyebrows. "Casting a big seamless illusion together like that comes damn close to sharing magic and that is most definitely a big deal."

She shook her head. "It's not like that. It's a little on the intimate side, I'll grant you that, but it's not anything near as intimate as sharing magic."

Ron frowned at her. "Well, since you've done both and I haven't, I guess I'll have to take your word on that."

She sighed and rubbed her eyes. "Look if you don't want me to do it, I won't, but whether I do or not has no bearing on us. In the end, it's just a parlor trick albeit an elaborate one. It's fifteen minutes of my time and that's it. It's not as though I hold a torch for Viktor and he certainly doesn't hold one for me."

"Maybe not, but he definitely has a soft spot for you," Ron said pointedly.

"Yes, and I have one for him. We went through some very difficult experiences together, but in the end, I think we want what's best for each other, and for me that's you, and for him that's Gabrielle. I'm glad he's so happy and I'd like to think he feels the same way about me."

Ron scratched at his beard. "I think he worries about you. Even after all this time, I think he worries that you came back to me."

Hermione sighed and took his hand. "He doesn't really know you and his first impression wasn't good."

"Wasn't good?" Ron scoffed. "It was horrible. I'd done something monstrous and he's worried I'm still a monster."

Hermione squeezed his hand. "But you're not. I know that. You know that. And that's all that matters."

He sat silently holding her hand for a minute. He sighed and said, "I think you should do it."

"Really?" Hermione said, surprised he would feel that way.

"Yeah, I mean how often do you get to show off? Besides, I trust you. If you say it's not a big deal, then it isn't."

"That's very big of you," Hermione said, smiling.

"Well, I'm a big bloke," he said smiling back at her.

"Oh, I know," she said, and winked at him.


	8. Tropical Scotland

**Tropical Scotland**

The following weekend, Ron and Hermione stepped out of the fireplace at Oliver's parents' estate in the evening just before sunset.

"This way," Hermione said, and walked out of the long hall where they'd emerged and through French doors onto a terrace. Ron couldn't help noticing how familiar she seemed with the house and its grounds as she led him to where the others were gathered.

"Well, there's wee Ronny now," George said as Ron and Hermione walked up.

"Wee?" Oliver said. "He grew up to be a bloody giant. What happened to you two runts?" he said pointing at Fred and George.

"Oi, we're not runts," Fred said. "We just took after Mum's side, the smart side of the family."

"Bollocks," Ron said. "You're just short."

"Oh, stop," Karl said. "I don't think I can take a whole weekend of sibling squabbling."

"Hear, hear," Hermione agreed.

Ron, Fred, and George all shrugged at the same time. "Yeah, alright," they said simultaneously and then laughed.

Everyone else shook their heads and laughed too.

"So," Oliver said, clapping his hands. "That's everyone here then. As I recall, Fred and George did the illusion to disguise the house first, then Viktor and Hermione created the sand and the sea, and then Luna and Neville did the lion and the palm trees, and then I fixed the tent and we all did the heating charms. Is that how everyone else remembers it?"

There were nods all around.

"Great," Oliver said. "Then take it away Fred and George."

The twins pulled their wands and advanced on the house. As always, they worked in perfect synchronicity. Twenty minutes later after they'd completely circled the imposing manor house, it now looked like a tropical resort hotel complete with rattan furniture on the terrace and a vast thatched roof.

"Perfect!" Oliver said, delighted. "Pietra will lose her mind. Okay," he said to Hermione and Viktor. "You two next."

Viktor and Hermione looked at each other and then began to walk down to the brick wall that ran along the outside edge of the gardens around the house.

Ron tugged at his beard as he watched them stand back to back. She faced the wall and he faced the house. She said something over her shoulder and they both raised their wands. They moved along the wall looking for all the world as though they were engaged in a bizarre dance, always touching back to back they moved in perfect rhythm to unheard music. Their perfectly timed movements reminded Ron of seeing them dance a tango years ago in Madrid. He was in Spain to make arrangements to sell his charmed televisions in a shop in Madrid's magical community. By sheer coincidence, he ended up in the same hotel where Viktor and Hermione were staying. He didn't know why they were there. He'd caught sight of her walking through the hotel in a very pretty red dress and followed her. She didn't see him. When she reached a ballroom where there was dancing, he slipped in as well and took a seat at a back table and watched as Viktor led her on to the dance floor where they performed a very sexy tango, seemingly oblivious to the other couples dancing around them. When they finished their dance, Ron slipped from the room as they went to the bar. He checked out of the hotel and found another place to stay in Madrid.

Viktor and Hermione took thirty minutes to complete the circuit around the grounds, but when they were done a crystal blue sea rolled in steady waves against a vast beach that went right up to the terrace where Ron and the others were standing. When they lowered their wands, Viktor said something to Hermione. She leaned forward with her hands on her hips and shook her head. Concerned, Ron walked down to where they were still standing.

"You alright?"

Hermione nodded. "I'm fine. Just a little winded."

Viktor looked at Ron with concern clear on his features.

Ron reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of Hobnobs. "Biscuit?"

Hermione nodded so he opened the packet and handed her one.

"Did you go to a Muggle market for me?" she asked before biting into the chocolate covered biscuit.

"I did," he said proudly, "and I'd do it again. I know you love these." He held the packet out to Viktor who took one.

"Thank you," Viktor said. "I haven't had one of these in a long time."

Ron gave him a tight smile and slipped his arm around Hermione. "Come on, let's see if Oliver can scare up a cup of tea."

When they came back onto the terrace Oliver clapped Viktor on the back. "Bloody brilliant! Just like last time." He turned to Hermione, but then stopped. "You look a bit peaked."

"Can we get a cup of tea?" Ron asked.

"Sure thing," Oliver said. He shouted for his family's house elf and then turned to Neville, "Can you get started on the trees?"

"Yep," Neville said and drew his wand.

Luna pulled hers as well.

Hermione took a seat at what looked like a rattan table and chairs on the terrace. A moment later a house elf showed up with two enormous trays, one with a large tea set and the other with assorted cakes and finger sandwiches.

"Pippa," Oliver said to the elf. "Can you set up the tent now so I can get it transformed."

"Yes, Master Oliver," the elf said. She disappeared.

Luna came over to the table followed by a large lion.

"That is some tremendous spellwork," Karl said.

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "Incredibly life like. Even better than last time, I think."

"How'd you manage that?" Karl asked.

Luna shrugged. "You only have to think of a lion and then there he is."

"I'm fairly certain I'd have to do a bit more than that," Ron said.

"That might be true, Ron," Luna said, taking a cucumber sandwich and pouring herself a cup of tea. Ron poured two cups and handed one to Hermione. Then he put a couple of coronation chicken sandwiches on a plate and put it in front of her. "Eat."

"The whole thing looks amazing," Karl said looking at the transformation of the manor and its gardens.

George draped his arm over Karl's shoulder. "It is, isn't it. And if the party is half as fun as last time, you're in for quite a treat."

Just past the terraces a large tent appeared.

"That's my cue," Oliver said, and went to transform it into a huge tiki hut.

A little while later Neville came on to the terrace. "Palm trees are done," he said.

"Very nice," Fred said. "They look like you could climb up and get coconuts."

"And you could," Neville said. "As long as you didn't expect to be able to eat them."

Everyone sat around chatting and enjoying their tea. When Oliver was finished he jogged over to the others and poured himself a drink. He looked around surveying their work. "This looks smashing. Thank you all so much for coming and setting this up. Pippa has outdone herself on the food and drink. Pietra is going to love it. All we need to do now are the heating charms. It's going to be amazing."

Ron looked around. "This is pretty incredible. I can understand why you'd want a repeat."

Oliver chuckled. "Well, I don't want a total repeat. We were in our twenties then and that party was…well…wild doesn't quite capture it."

Viktor and Hermione glanced at each other and then looked in opposite directions. Hermione's cheeks went a bit pink.

"This time will be a bit more sedate. First off, only about seventy-five people are coming tomorrow. Last time it was more like two hundred." Oliver shook his head. "The next morning the estate looked like a bomb went off. There were bodies everywhere. Personally, I woke up under a shrub near the house." He looked at Viktor and Hermione. "What about you two?"

Hermione's cheeks went a deeper red. As she said, "I don't remember," Viktor said. "On the sofa in the parlor."

Oliver laughed. "Oh, that's right."

"What?" Ron said. "On the sofa doesn't sound so wild."

"It wouldn't have been," Oliver said, laughing harder. "If they'd had any clothes on."

Ron raised his eyebrows at Hermione who said demurely. "I was very drunk."

Everyone laughed.

"We were both very drunk," Viktor said.

"Hell, everyone was very drunk," Fred said. "George was so drunk that night I think he hooked up with a woman."

Karl raised his eyebrows at George who held up his hands. "Completely pissed. And where were you?" he grumbled at Fred.

"Upstairs in one of the bedrooms with my wife, you wanker," Fred replied. "Truth is, I think John might have been conceived at that party."

Everyone laughed again.

Oliver pointed at Neville and Luna. "You two were together then. Where'd you end up?"

Neville shook his head, but Luna said airily, "On a chaise lounge by the pool."

"But were you naked? That's the question," George said.

"Erm," Neville said.

"Yes," Luna said in the same ethereal voice.

"But we had a blanket," Neville hastened to add.

"More of a large towel really," Luna said.

Everyone laughed again.

Ron shook his head. "No wonder people still talk about that party." He glanced at Hermione who was looking out over the illusory sea.

"It was legendary," Fred said. "By two o'clock in the morning there were only about twenty people left standing and some of us decided to go swimming."

"Oh, right," Oliver said clasping a hand to his forehead. "And, like an idiot, I opened the pool house. Pippa was in a right panic making sure no one drowned."

"Ah," Karl said, raising an eyebrow at George. "Hence the nudity."

"Well, you can't swim in clothes, now can you?" George said.

"Then we really would have drowned," Fred added.

Karl just shook his head. "That sounds like a very awkward morning."

"Not for this one," Oliver said, pointing with his thumb at Hermione. "Some of us from the team walked through the parlor on the way to the kitchen to get the big cauldron of hangover potion I'd brewed the week before, and there they were in the altogether. They wake up when we come in and Viktor pulls a pillow over his lap. But this one, she just stands up, flicks her wrist, so a towel rises up from the sofa and wraps itself around her, and she marches into the kitchen. By the time we made it to the cauldron, she had her hair up and was bringing potion to Viktor."

All eyes went to Hermione, who continued looking at the artificial ocean. She shrugged.

"Cool as a cucumber, that one," Oliver said admiringly.

"Let me guess," Ron said. "You took the mickey out of her forever after that."

Oliver shook his head. "I should think not."

Ron looked confused.

"None of us had ever seen them before," Oliver said.

"Oh, please," Ron said.

Hermione snorted. "He's talking about my scars."

"She silenced a whole team of Quidditch players that day." Oliver said. "We'd fucking do anything for her after that. I was at the final battle, but I never saw the state of you two. I only read the accounts after, but that's not the same as seeing for yourself, is it?"

"No," Karl said, and took George's hand.

There was a long silence as everyone thought of their own war experiences.

"Well, enough about that, we've got a party to finish," Oliver said, clapping his hands. "It's going to take ages to do the heating charms. Shall we?"

"Might as well, Neville said, standing. Hermione got up with everyone else.

Ron put a hand on her shoulder. "Not you."

She rolled her eyes. "I can do heating charms."

"But you don't need to, there're plenty of us." She opened her mouth to protest, but Ron said in a low voice. "I've been more than reasonable."

She sat back down.

"Alright," Oliver said, breaking the tension. He began instructing everyone where to go to get maximum coverage. "I want everything at seventy degrees. Warm, but not hot." Everyone trotted off to their assigned areas. Hermione remained behind. She wandered into the house to look for Oliver's parents' library. If she was going to be stuck waiting she needed something to read.

It was three hours before she heard the others coming back into the house. She could hear Ron in the hallway ask Oliver where their library was. A moment later he opened the door and stepped in. He was a bit sweaty.

"All done?" she asked.

"Yeah, that took ages, but the ground floor of the manor and the estate inside the ocean are covered for the next forty-eight hours. Did you find something good to read?"

"Actually, yes, I think I'll ask to borrow it."

He stepped over to look at the book in her lap and she closed it so he could see the cover. " _A Highlands History of Magic_ ," Ron read. "Sounds right up your alley."

"It's quite good. Bathilda Bagshot cowrote it. You know she wrote—"

" _Hogwarts: A History_ , I know, luv," Ron said, smiling. "As if I could be married to you and not know that."

Hermione chuckled. "Right."

"I'm disgusting. I need a shower," he leered at her. "Care to join me? We have some time before dinner." He held out his hand.

She took it. "Yeah, alright."

They went up the grand staircase and into a long wide hall, off of which were many bedrooms. When she'd dated Viktor, Oliver always put them in the same large room at the end of the hall, but this time she and Ron were in one of the more modest rooms. Oliver had given all the doors glowing magical numbers to make it easier for everyone to find their place. She and Ron were in room five. Ron opened the door and she followed him in. He looked around. "Ah, no ensuite, I'll have to shower down the hall. Still want to join me?"

"I don't think so," Hermione said. "I'll just stay here and read."

"Really?" He said, teasing. "What happened to that unflappable girl of yore?"

She frowned at him. "She grew up and got sober."

"Hey, I was only joking," Ron said.

"I know. It's nothing," she shook her head. "Oliver acts like it was such a big deal that I was cool and collected. But what was I meant to do? Fall all over myself trying to cover up? They'd already seen everything."

"Most people wouldn't think about it that way. Most people wouldn't think at all. They'd just react."

Hermione sighed. "Right."

"But you're not most people," Ron added. "Which is good, because most people are dead boring."

She chuckled. "Well, I'm glad you don't think I'm too dull."

Ron smiled. "Far from it. And look, you don't need to say you don't remember something that happened back then for my sake. I'm not so jealous that I can't handle old stories from twenty years ago."

"What?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Earlier when Oliver asked where you and Viktor ended up after the party you said you didn't remember."

"Because I didn't."

"Seriously?" Ron asked.

"Yes. I have a vague memory of jumping into the pool and then nothing."

"Oh," Ron said.

"Those were heavy drinking days. Actually, after that party, Viktor started to cut way back on his drinking and shortly thereafter started harping on me about mine."

Ron shook his head. "He should've just taken you to St. Mungo's like Dad did me."

"He tried."

"What?" Ron said, surprised.

Hermione sighed again. "Ron, do you imagine it's easy to take me somewhere I don't want to go?"

"Oh," Ron said. "No. I suppose not."

"I just didn't see it as a problem. I would be sober for weeks at a time at work. And then we would go out and I…" She sighed. "Wouldn't be."

"Right," Ron said.

"Eventually, Viktor got so mad about the binging that I really thought he might leave. After that I drank less but more often."

Ron nodded. "Same amount but done differently."

Hermione nodded. "Right."

"Bloody hell," Ron said. "How is it I can have the occasional drink, even get drunk on rare occasions and you can't?"

She shrugged. "We're just different is all. It's not as though I'm known for doing anything in half measures."

Ron chuckled. "That's certainly true."

"And, I think my dad might have had a problem with drink. I remember he and my mum arguing some about his drinking and when I was emptying the house I found a lot of bottles hidden here and there among his things."

"Really?" Ron said. "What'd you do with them?"

"I drank them, of course. Have you met me?"

He laughed. "Yeah, stupid question." He took her hand and kissed it. "I love you, you know that?"

"I do," she said.

"I like that you don't drink now and I know it's not easy," he said.

She nodded. "It isn't but I like it too."

"I'm going to go get in the shower," he said, reaching for his dressing gown.

"Right," Hermione said, climbing onto the queen size bed with her book. "I'll be here when you get back."

He gave her a cheeky grin.

"Don't make assumptions," she said demurely but smiled back at him.

xXx

When he returned to their room a little while later, Hermione was still reading in bed, but she was under the covers and appeared to be naked. He grinned at her. "Can I make assumptions now?"

"I think that's fair," she said.

The bed was made Scandinavian style with a down comforter in a duvet instead of a top sheet and blankets. Ron lifted up the comforter and crawled up her body, licking and nipping as he went. He heard her lock and Impreturb the door as she squirmed beneath his ministrations.

xXx

As they walked down to the drawing room for cocktails, Ron said to Hermione, "Would you like a place like this?"

"A big manor house in the middle nowhere? No, I don't think so," she said.

"Really, because we could get a topping house like this, if you want."

She shook her head. "What would we do with all this space? Unless Art and Emma decided to have a dozen kids and move in with us, it would be just you and me rattling around. That seems rather grim doesn't it?"

He looked around as they descended the grand staircase past portraits of Oliver's ancestors most of whom seemed to be sleeping. "I suppose. It is really impressive though."

"I like that we live in my parents' house," Hermione said. "It makes it feel like they're still part of my life. Besides, I like London. There's nothing to do out here unless you want to take up riding or landscape painting."

"Alright, alright," Ron said. "I won't buy you a gigantic estate. You're so bloody difficult to shop for."

She was chuckling as they went into the drawing room.

"What are you two giggling about?" Angelina said as they walked in.

"Hullo," Hermione said, hugging her. "I was wondering when you were going to get here."

"I was out at my dad's. Since my mum passed he needs seeing to," Angelina said. "But it's not like I could miss an opportunity to revisit the Tropical Highlands."

"Yeah," Ron said, "Fred was telling us what a memorable weekend that was for you two."

Angelina looked appalled and shot daggers at Fred. "Was he really?"

"No, Ang, Ron's just taking the piss," Fred said, glaring at Ron, and putting his hands on his wife's shoulders.

Looking around the room, Hermione noticed Luna's husband Rolf was there, as was Michelle who had been dating Neville since Hermione had introduced them at the New Year's party she and Ron threw at the beginning of the year.

"What can I get you two to drink?" Oliver asked as he came over with a tray of empty glasses.

"Just a club soda for me," Hermione said.

"I'll have the same, with lime if you have it."

"Right," Oliver said. He tapped a couple of tumblers with his wand. As they each took their drinks, Oliver gave Hermione a questioning look, but she ignored it. George and Karl came in and Oliver went to offer them a beverage.

Viktor came in alone. Oliver gave him a drink and Viktor stood on his own for a minute surveying the room. Since Oliver was playing host, Viktor came to stand by her and Ron.

"Where's Gabrielle tonight?" Hermione asked him.

"She and the girls are with Bill and Fleur tonight, but she will join me here tomorrow afternoon."

"I was wondering if she would with Iskra being so small," Hermione said.

"Ah, yes, it is hard for women to leave a baby so young, even though she will be with Fleur and Bill and their girls as well as her own sisters. Still Gabrielle worries."

Hermione smiled sympathetically. "I remember that feeling. It's so hard to leave them that first time."

"How old was your son the first time you left him?" Viktor asked.

Ron answered for her. "Sixteen."

"Sixteen days or sixteen weeks?" Viktor asked.

"Years," Ron said chuckling.

Hermione swatted his arm. "I wasn't that bad?"

"Come on, luv, you went with him to Hogwarts."

"I left before his final year," she said making a weak argument.

Ron leaned over and kissed the top of her head. "Yes, you did. That was very brave." He rolled his eyes at Viktor who laughed.

"Oh, please," Hermione said, but couldn't really refute anything Ron had said.

"Ron!" Fred called from across the room. "Come tell Angie about that bloke from Estonia."

Ron laughed and headed toward his brother.

Viktor looked at Hermione. "That is a funny story about the Estonian."

"Yes," Hermione said. "Ron has loads of those."

Viktor nodded. "He makes you laugh."

She nodded. "Yes, always has done."

"And you are okay, about the other son?" Viktor asked.

Hermione shrugged. "Nothing to do with me. That all happened ages ago when I was with you. It would be pretty hypocritical to be too bothered about it, don't you think?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps, but I think most people would be."

"I'm not most people," Hermione said.

"No," Viktor agreed. "You are not."

A bell floated into the room and chimed. "Dinner is served," Oliver announced. "If you lot will make your way into the dining room and look for your seats we'll have us a well tidy scran."

As they took their seats, Hermione turned her wine glasses upside down to indicate to Pippa not to fill them. Ron did the same. Hermione leaned over and whispered to him, "Have wine with dinner if you like. I'm fine."

Ron shook his head. "No, I'm good."

"Suit yourself," she said.

"Don't I always?" he said smiling.

She chuckled softly.

When everyone was seated, platters of food appeared on the table. Hermione was delighted to see tatty scones. "Ooh, I love these," she said to Oliver. "Pippa makes them so well."

"I wouldn't normally have them on the menu for a dinner like this, but Pippa remembered you love them."

"How sweet," Hermione said, putting one of the potato cakes on her plate.

"House elves are the best," Angelina said. "I wish one would move in with us."

"Probably shouldn't have had nine kids then," George said. "No elf wants that much work."

"Three too many anyway," Ron said. "You only need to have six to get a good one."

"How's that when you only had one?" Fred groused.

Ron laughed. "Well, that's because Hermione is an overachiever and managed the perfect child right out of the gate. Other people require more practice."

There were groans from the other parents around the table.

"Oh please," Angelina said.

"I'd have to say Angelina is the overachiever regarding children," Hermione said.

"Hear, hear," said everyone else at the table.

"Too my lovely wife," Fred said, raising his wine glass.

Everyone toasted Angelina's good health.

Behind Luna's seat, the lion roared and the room fell silent.

"Bloody hell, Luna," Oliver said. "Did you have to bring him in with you?"

"It's best to keep him close, solidifies the illusion." I'll let him roam free tomorrow."

"It's a bit scary," Karl muttered. "It's so real looking."

"Yes," Luna said airily.

Her husband smiled adoringly at her. "You should see her dragon."

Oliver held up his hands. "Not in the house, please."

Everyone laughed.

xXx

After dinner, they all retired to the game room where there were two billiards tables and four card tables set up. Fred and Angelina played George and Karl in billiards.

"You two want to play?" Neville asked.

"Sure," Ron said, but Hermione could tell the idea of playing billiards with his wife and his ex-girlfriend made him uncomfortable.

"I'm actually, really tired. I think I might go read and make it an early night," Hermione said.

"Alright," Ron said.

She put a hand on his arm. "Stay and play. I'm fine."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah," she said. "Have fun."

He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips. "See you in a bit then."

She nodded and went upstairs.

"Well, now we're uneven," Neville said. "Hey, Viktor, come and play."

Ron didn't say anything but he couldn't help thinking it was weird to be playing billiards with his ex-girlfriend and Hermione's ex-boyfriend, but then that was the magical community for you, small and incestuous. No wonder people married Muggles. It didn't take long to go through your entire age group in the magical world unless you wanted to date people from other countries. He knew Neville and Luna had dated right out of school and he was pretty sure she'd dated Oliver for a while some time ago before she met Rolf. He shook his head and racked the billiard balls. He was glad to be done with all that. The stability of married life suited him more than running around with all those women had, fun as it may have been at times.

Oliver came back in with Luna and her husband and they sat down at one of the card tables to play three-hand cribbage.

xXx

When Ron came to bed a couple of hours later, Hermione was still reading.

"Hey, you're still up?" he said coming into the room and closing the door behind him.

"This book is really good. How was the game?"

"Viktor and I won two, lost one," Ron said as he sat on the edge of the bed and began pulling off his shoes and socks.

"You were on a team with Viktor?"

Ron chuckled. "I know, right? But you went to bed and he was on his own and Neville and Michelle wanted to play billiards." He pulled his shirt over his head and dropped his trousers. "Budge up."

Hermione slid over and he crawled in next to her and gave her a kiss pulled her close.

"My goodness, twice in one day," Hermione teased. "What's got you all amorous?"

"Probably thoughts of a twenty-year-old you flouncing about this gigantic house naked."

She set her book on the night stand and scowled at him. "First, I was twenty-one. Second, I was not flouncing around naked. I clearly came in wrapped in a towel otherwise it wouldn't have been on the sofa. It just came undone while I was asleep. Besides, it doesn't say much for my sex appeal if a team of Quidditch players saw me naked and all they noticed were the scars."

"I'm sure that's not all they noticed," Ron said, feeling the conversation getting away from him. He hadn't meant to upset her.

"I assure you it was. Oliver was right, after that I was treated differently. Like a symbol or an icon or something instead of a person."

Ron took her hand and winked at her. "Clearly, Oliver had a bit of a crush on you. I'd be worried if he wasn't so short."

She chuckled and pressed her palm against his cheek on the side with the scar hidden under his beard and then surprised him by kissing him. She came out of the kiss and pressed her forehead against his. "Fill me up," she whispered.

So, he did.

xXx

It was just after one o'clock in the morning when Hermione woke needing to use the loo. Ron was snoring softly beside her, so she pulled on her dressing gown and went out into the hall, closing the door behind her as quietly as he could.

As she was coming out of the loo, Viktor was walking toward her on his way to his room.

"You're up late," she commented.

"I was talking to Oliver. He is nervous about getting married and being a good husband."

"Ah, I'm sure he'll be fine," Hermione said.

"Me too," Viktor agreed.

"Well, goodnight." She went to move past him but he put his hand on her forearm.

"I am sorry about earlier. I should not have answered Oliver's question about where we ended up that night."

Hermione shrugged. "Not to worry. It's ancient history."

"Not one of our finer moments," Viktor said.

"No," she conceded. "But not our worst either."

He let out a soft snort. "No."

"Goodnight," she said again.

"You too," he said and continued down the hall.

She went back to her own room, grateful to be sliding in next to Ron. She looked at his sleeping form and marveled that they had ever managed to make their way back together after all they'd been through when they were apart. She smiled and kissed his bare shoulder before settling down and going back to sleep.

xXx

The day of the party arrived cool and cloudy. It was only fifty degrees that morning and only expected to rise to sixty-two, but the manor and its grounds were an even seventy degrees. Breakfast was served buffet style in the dining room. Ron was last to get up. He piled eggs and bacon on his plate and joined Hermione and the others at the table.

"Anyone fancy a game of tennis this morning?" George asked.

"I'd play," Oliver said.

"Singles or doubles," George asked. "Karl and I can play as a team."

Oliver looked at Viktor. "Fancy a game?"

"Sure. Why not? Gabrielle won't be here for hours."

"Is the pool open, Oliver?" Hermione asked. "I wouldn't mind a swim."

"Ooh, la, la," Fred said.

Angelina swatted his arm.

"I brought a suit, you git," Hermione said in mock indignation.

Ron chuckled. "Always best to check with you."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"It's open," Oliver said, "although I'll lock it up for the party just in case you lot decide to run wild in your dotage."

"Dotage? We're in our forties, mate, not our hundred forties," Fred said.

"All the more reason to lock up the pool tonight," Oliver said.

Angelina shook her head. "I wouldn't mind a swim."

"Me either," Luna said.

xXx

After breakfast, Hermione went upstairs to change into a one-piece bathing suit that had a high enough neckline to cover all her scars. The one on her back was slightly visible through the armhole of the suit, but it wasn't significant enough to bother expending the energy to do a glamour charm. She joined Angelina and Luna in the pool house. For most people, a pool house was the little building near their outdoor pools so people had a place to change their clothes. For Oliver's family the pool house referred to an elaborate stand-alone building that housed their indoor pool. The whole building was meant to evoke a Roman bathhouse and Hermione, having gone to Bath with her parents, felt like they'd successfully achieved their goal.

When she opened the door to the pool, Angelina and Luna were sitting on the side with their feet in the water discussing the temperature. Luna was twirling her wand between her fingers.

Hermione sat next to Angelina and stuck her feet in the water. "Ooh," she said. "That's a bit chilly."

"Yes," Angelina said. "We were just talking about what temperature to set the charm at."

"Eighty is nice," Hermione said. "Not too hot for swimming, but not so cold your muscles stiffen."

"I was thinking eighty-five, and then cool it back down before we leave so they don't get algae."

"I'm fine with eighty-five," Hermione said.

"Alright then," Luna said and waved her wand over the pool.

Hermione could immediately feel the difference on her feet. "Perfect," she said, and slipped into the water. "This feels good," she said, stretching her side.

Angelina and Luna joined her and they all stood around talking about when they expected various people to start showing up. Officially, the engagement party started at nine, but given Oliver's reputation as a host, people were likely to start showing up as early as five. As they stood there chatting, Winky appeared with a plate of chocolate biscuits and a cup of tea. When she saw that Hermione was with other people two additional cups of tea and more biscuits appeared.

"Thank you Winky," Hermione said.

"Yes, Miss," Winky said, and disappeared.

"Well isn't this lovely," Angelina said, reaching for a cup of tea.

"Yes," Hermione said and took a biscuit.

"I didn't hear you call her," Luna said, perplexed.

"Because I didn't," Hermione said somewhat exasperated. "Ron has me on a feeding schedule and she adheres to it no matter where I am or what I might be doing."

Angelina raised her eyebrows. "That seems like it could be awkward."

Hermione shook her head. "Oh, you have no idea. The other day I was in a rather high-level meeting for the Wizengamot with the Minister of Magic and Winky pops in with tea and biscuits. Of course, to her credit, she immediately summoned enough for everyone just as she did here and the Minister was delighted. But it was still awkward to explain why my elf appears uninvited with food and drink."

"Not to be rude," Angelina said, "but can't you manage to feed yourself?"

Hermione's cheeks went pink. "You would think, but apparently, not adequately. I get caught up in what I'm doing and forget to eat."

"That would explain what Michelle was talking about at cards last night," Luna said absently.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"Rolf went to bed not long after you did. He'd had rather a long day, so Ron, Neville, Michelle and I ended up playing cards for about an hour."

"Really?" Hermione said, raising her eyebrows. "Wasn't that sort of awkward?"

"More so for Ron and Michelle, I think," Luna said. "Neville and I parted ways amicably. I get the feeling that wasn't so much the case with Ron and Michelle."

"I don't know the details," Hermione said. "But I always got that impression."

Angelina nodded. "Me too, but he never said much about it. One day she was living in his flat and they seemed rather serious and the next she was gone and he never said why."

Hermione shrugged. "To hear him tell it, I caused the end of all his relationships."

Angelina chuckled. "How's that?"

"He talks in his sleep and I guess he used to call my name," Hermione said.

"Alright then," Angelina said. "That's fair. If Fred called another woman's name in his sleep, I'd scalp him."

Luna pursed her lips considering. "Yes, that would be hard to take."

"Funny thing is," Hermione said, "he still talks in his sleep, but it's mostly about work. He mutters about filling invoices and sorting out charms, but mostly it's too garbled to understand. Every once in a while, I catch the word Gringotts. Does Fred talk in his sleep?"

"No," Angelina said, "but he snores like a bandsaw."

"Rolf doesn't snore exactly," Luna said. "Instead he occasionally makes little puttering sounds like when you're little and playing with toy boats. It's rather adorable."

Hermione and Angelina chuckled.

Hermione excused herself from the conversation and started to swim laps. She wasn't a particularly strong swimmer, but the motion of swimming helped stretch the muscles around the scar on her side, so she tried to go a few times a week to the Ministry pool or the pond at the Burrow.

Michelle came in and went down the stairs into the water and walked over to where Angelina and Luna stood talking. "Tennis is getting a little too competitive for me, so I thought I'd join you three."

"Wise," Angelina said. "Tennis when played by Fred and George really evokes their days as beaters."

Michelle nodded. "Ron and Karl aren't much better. I wanted to leave before someone needed me in my professional capacity. Although I told Neville to come get me if anyone started bleeding."

"It doesn't usually come to that," Angelina said. "I don't know how they manage given how reckless it looks from the outside, but the brothers rarely draw blood."

"I wouldn't know," Michelle said. "Ron and I didn't spend much time with the family when were together, which come to think of it, should have been a clue that we weren't going to last."

Hermione stopped swimming and came over. "Hullo Michelle."

"Hullo," Michelle said. "It's good you're swimming. That should help strengthen the muscles in your side."

"Yes," Hermione said awkwardly. She didn't want to talk about her recovery in front of Angelina and Luna.

Michelle seemed oblivious to her discomfort. "Ron said he put you back on regular feedings. That's smart. That should help your progress. You should be further along than you are."

Hermione could feel her cheeks flushing. "So you've said," she said tightly. "Could we not discuss this right now."

"Oh," Michelle said. "Of course, but you should come in for a check-up soon."

"Okay," Hermione said, wanting the conversation to stop.

"Right," Michelle said. "Time I did some laps." She swam to the other side and began going back and forth along the length of the pool.

Hermione frowned.

Luna and Angelina gave her sympathetic looks.

Hermione sighed. "I think I'm going to go in." As she walked out of the building she could hear all the jeering and calling from the tennis courts. Only the Weasley men could turn what was meant to be a gentile sport into something more familiar to football hooligans. Hermione shook her head and went into the house.

xXx

After showering and changing into a skirt and light summer top, Hermione went down to the parlor with the intention of reading until Ron came in but as she was walking in she heard Oliver say, "There's my girl." He and Pietra were locked in a rather passionate kiss.

"Excuse me," Hermione said, backing out.

Pietra disentangled herself from Oliver. "Hermione? What are you doing here?" She looked at Oliver.

"Oh, well, I thought you might like to see her. It's been donkey's years since you two got together," Oliver said.

Hermione realized Pietra must have just gotten there and hadn't seen the party he'd set up for her yet. "Yes," she said. "Ron and I came in last night."

"I'm so glad you're here," Pietra said, smiling warmly. The two women embraced.

"I've invited a few other people," Oliver said. "I thought it might be nice to have a party to celebrate our engagement."

"Aren't you sweet," Pietra said, cupping his face.

Just then they heard the front door open and Neville bellowing for Michelle. They went to see what the commotion was about. George and Karl, were holding up Fred who looked quite pale. He was holding his hand at an awkward angle. Ron was anxiously standing next to them and Viktor was trailing behind.

"Have you seen Michelle?" Neville asked. "Fred's crushed his hand."

"She's in the pool house," Hermione said and Neville turned and went back outside.

"I didn't crush it," Fred said weakly. "Your giant oaf of a husband stomped on it."

"I didn't stomp on it," Ron said in exasperation. "I was running for the ball and you tripped and fell under me."

"I think Karl cast a tripping jinx," Fred said.

"I did not!" Karl said indignantly.

"Fred," George said in disapproval.

"Well, bring him in here and put him on the sofa before he passes out," Oliver said.

As George and Karl got Fred settled, Hermione leaned over and looked at his hand. "That's pretty nasty. It looks like you've broken several bones."

Angelina came racing in followed by Michelle and Neville. Angelina looked at Fred and said, "What have you done you foolish man?"

"I didn't do anything," Fred said meekly. "Ron stomped me."

"I didn't, Angie," Ron cried. "Not on purpose." He turned on Fred. "Stop saying it like that."

Michelle made her way to Fred and pulled her wand. "Was this strictly a physical event or was magic involved," she asked.

Fred went to open his mouth, but George said, "Tell the truth or she won't be able to fix it properly."

Fred frowned and said, "I just tripped and Ron stepped on it."

"Unfortunately," Ron said, "I was running at the time, so I stomped it pretty good."

"No worries," Michelle said. She raised her wand and recited a series of complex rune statements."

Fred's hand began to snap back in place, but he cried out as each bone righted itself. By the time Michelle was done, he was sweating and quite green in the face.

"That's got it," Michelle said. "Take it easy using that hand for the rest of the day. You've gone rather pale. You might want to lay down for a few hours."

"Thank you," Angelina said. She held out her hand to Fred. "Let's get you upstairs for a bit."

George got on Fred's other side and they helped him back to his room with Karl trailing behind them.

Neville put his arm around Michelle's shoulders. "Isn't she fantastic?" he said to the others.

Michelle's cheeks went pink, but she smiled. "Oh, Neville, it was just a few broken bones. Not exactly a medical miracle."

"But you've performed medical miracles," Neville said earnestly. "There's one right there." He pointed to Hermione.

"How's that?" Pietra asked.

"Michelle was the healer who saved my life after the accident at the Ministry."

"Really?" Pietra said, clearly impressed.

"Yes," Hermione said. "Actually, Neville saved my life once too. He carried me through the Ministry after I was cursed in a battle with Death Eaters."

"Good heavens," Pietra said. "Your Ministry sounds like a very dangerous place."

"You have no idea," Ron muttered.

"Yes, well, at times. Anyway, I introduced Neville and Michelle. I like to keep my heroes all in one place." She smiled.

"Convenient that," Ron said. "Now something happens to Hermione and I only have to send the one owl."

Everyone chuckled.

Pietra looked around the room and caught sight of Viktor. "Hullo you," she said.

Viktor gave her a hug.

"Where's your lovely wife?" Pietra asked.

"She should be along any time now. I've been here since yesterday, but she didn't want to leave the baby for that long."

"Understandable," Pietra said. "But why have you been here since yesterday? Oliver has a house elf, surely he didn't need additional help with a dinner party."

"Well," Oliver said. "I needed a tad bit of help."

Pietra looked askance at him.

He smiled and winked at her. "Come along and I'll show you."

Pietra gasped as they stepped out on to the terrace. A vast swath of sand went from the edge of the terrace to a Mediterranean blue sea, its waves lapping against the beach. Everywhere she looked there was something tropical. Palm trees rustled in the breeze. The manor and the pool house, instead of looking like the Georgian architecture she was used to, looked Spanish colonial instead. There was a vast tiki hut set up where the gardens used to be. Somewhat alarmingly, a lion was wondering around the estate and a dragon appeared to be sleeping on the roof of the manor. Even the tennis courts seemed to have a rattan fence around them.

"What have you done?" Pietra asked in a hushed voice.

"You always said you wished you could have been at that tropical party, so I thought I'd recreate it for you."

"You did this for me?" Pietra said, her mouth open in surprise.

"Of course. Well, I mean, I didn't do it all. But I brought back everyone who made it possible the first time and here you are," Oliver said.

"This is amazing," Pietra said as she walked along the length of the house. She slipped out of her shoes and stepped onto the beach. It even feels like sand.

Oliver took her hand. "Come down to the water's edge, you can feel the ocean spray on your face."

Ron put his arm around Hermione. "She seems pleased."

"She's an artist," Hermione said. "She knows what goes into a good illusion, so she really appreciates something like this."

"Oliver's a clever dog then," Ron said appreciatively.

"I should say so," Hermione said chuckling.

xXx

By ten o'clock that night, the party was in full swing. Luna's dragon illusion had woken up and now perched on the roof periodically blowing fire into the night. Ron was talking with a large group about the Quidditch season and Hermione had excused herself to go to the loo. When she came back outside, she saw Pietra down by the water by herself. She strolled down to join her. "Hullo," Hermione said standing next to her.

Pietra turned to her. "Hullo. This is amazing. It reminds of that island we stayed in Greece. Remember?"

Hermione nodded. "When Viktor and I first put together this illusion years ago, that's what we used as our template."

"Oliver told me you and Viktor did the sand and sea. I really appreciate the effort. I know that must have been a bit awkward."

Hermione shrugged. "It meant a lot to Oliver. We're both pleased to see him so happy. I didn't even realize you two were dating."

"I know," Pietra said. "I haven't been a very good friend."

"Nonsense," Hermione said. "You and Viktor have been friends since school and you were married to his cousin. It's not as though I thought you and I would remain close after I left him."

"No, but that was twenty years ago and now I've moved to Scotland. I'd like to be real friends again, not just the Christmas card sort," Pietra said earnestly.

Hermione smiled. "I'd like that too."

George came up behind them. "There you are," he said to Hermione. "Come on let's dance."

"Duty calls," Hermione said to Pietra who chuckled.

xXx

Ron stood at the side of the tiki hut watching Hermione dance with George. Karl came to stand beside him. "I envy her that," Karl said.

"Not much of a dancer, Karl?" Ron asked.

"No," Karl said. "I can manage a passable waltz, maybe a mediocre foxtrot and that's about it."

Ron nodded. "Yeah, I can do the ballroom dances, but not this fast swing stuff."

George twirled Hermione and she fitted back against him. He put his hands on her hips and they moved together in a suggestive wiggle.

Ron shook his head. "If I didn't know for a fact that he was madly in love with you, I'd rip his head off for that, brother or not."

Karl sighed. "Well, I'd gouge her eyes out if I didn't know she only had eyes for you."

"Why don't you two just take dance lessons?" Ginny asked, coming up and standing next to Ron.

"Oi," Ron said, "When did you get here?"

"Just a few minutes ago."

"Where's Harry?" Karl asked.

Ginny pointed with the fruity cocktail she was holding to Harry surrounded by a group of people. "Where he always is at parties, surrounded by admirers. Why do you think we always come so late?"

"Ah," Ron said. "Should we go rescue him?"

"Nah, we'll give it a minute. If they don't wander off we'll go in."

"Fair enough," Ron said.

"So, dance lessons," Ginny continued. "You could take them together as a surprise for your respective spouses."

"I don't think so," Ron scoffed.

"Why not, Ron?" Ginny said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Don't want anyone thinking you're a poof?"

"Hardly," Ron said. "Thanks to that bloody interview I did ages ago, loads of people already think I'm a poof. I don't care about that. It's logistics. Who would lead?"

"You would," Karl said, warming to the idea. "Bloody hell, Ron, that could be amazing? We'd shock the hell out of them."

Ginny grinned.

"Can you even take classes for that kind of dancing?" Ron asked.

"Of course, you can," Ginny said.

Ron sighed and looked at Karl. "Alright, find a bloody class and if I can work it around my schedule, I'll give it a try."

"Fantastic," Karl said. "I know just who to ask." He trotted off toward the house.

"Aww, look how happy he is," Ginny said.

"He might be happy now but wait until he discovers I've got two left feet."

Ginny chuckled.

He looked across the dance floor to where Viktor was dancing with Gabrielle who'd finally arrived. "It's all that wanker's fault," he said to his sister.

"Hermione loved to dance long before she met Viktor," Ginny said.

"Yeah," Ron grumbled. "But he took it to a whole new level."

Harry came over then and took Ginny's hand. "Come dance before anyone else wants to talk to me."

Ginny chuckled and followed him on to the dance floor.

When the song ended, Hermione came over to Ron. "Having a good time?" he asked.

She nodded. "Fantastic. I won't be able to move tomorrow, but I'm having fun right now."

He smiled at her. "Good."

She looked at the drink in his hand. It was orange with a red swirl and had an umbrella. "What is that?"

He handed it to her. "Just orange juice with a little Grenadine."

"Thanks. I'm parched." She drank half of it and handed it back to him.

"How much longer do you think you'll want to stay?"

"Well," Hermione said. "Harry and Ginny just got here and my husband still hasn't asked me to dance."

"Really?" Ron said. "What is wrong with that guy?"

Hermione shrugged. "I think he's insecure about his dancing but he needn't be."

"Sounds lame," Ron said. "You should drop that zero and get with a hero." He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her tight against him.

"Does this hero dance?" Hermione asked.

"Oh yes," Ron said. "He's best at horizontal dancing, but he'll give it a go around the dance floor if that's what the lady wants."

"She definitely wants that," Hermione said, smiling.

"Come on then," he said, taking her hand. She happily followed him.

xXx

They danced for a half an hour before Hermione decided to let Ron off the hook. She really appreciated his indulgence, but she was getting tired and figured they could both use the break. It was after midnight and the party had started to thin out considerably. When they walked up on the terrace, Oliver, Pietra, Gabrielle, and Viktor were sitting on sectional outdoor sofas arranged around a firepit that sat cold.

"Hermione," Viktor said as they stepped onto the terrace, "could you make one of your heatless fires?"

She pulled her wand. "Sure," she said and stepped over to the firepit.

Pietra watched her perform the spell and then said. "Why did you take out your wand? You never used to when you cast that spell?"

Hermione shrugged. "I'm tired. Using my wand is less taxing."

"Oh, well have a seat then." Pietra said. Hermione sat next to her and Ron took the corner seat on the adjacent sofa.

"Listen," Pietra continued, "I was wondering if you'd like to get lunch sometime this week. I need to do some shopping so I can come into London whatever day works for you."

"I'd love that," Hermione said. "How about Wednesday?"

"Sounds good," Pietra said.

"Leaky Cauldron at noon?" Hermione asked.

"We can meet there, but I'd like to go to a Muggle restaurant not far from Diagon Alley called Darwin Brasserie that I really like, if that's okay with you."

"Fantastic," Hermione said.

As the women talked about the area of Muggle London just outside Diagon Alley, Ron looked around. More people had gone home, Fred and Angelina had already left and George and Karl came over and said their goodbyes before heading into the house. The lion was still walking around, but Luna had let the dragon dissipate. He noticed that Gabrielle appeared to have fallen asleep against Viktor's chest. Harry and Ginny came over then and sat on the sofa with Ron.

"Smashing party, Oliver," Harry said.

"Thanks for coming," Oliver said. "When trying to impress your future wife, it's always good to know Harry Potter."

Harry let out a soft snort.

"Darling," Pietra said. "I met Harry ages ago at the Magenta Comstock Memorial."

"Rats," Oliver said. "There goes all my cachet."

Everyone chuckled.

"Sorry Oliver," Hermione said, "but anyone trying to build cachet from knowing Harry always has to get in line behind Ron and I."

"Stop," Harry said, blushing.

"You're not used to the fuss by now?" Oliver asked.

"Used to it? Yes. But that's not the same as being comfortable with it," Harry said.

Oliver nodded. "Yeah, the notoriety gets old. I have to say I prefer being a coach over being a player when it comes to that. Wouldn't you say Viktor?"

Viktor nodded. "I miss playing, but I don't miss the photographers. I don't have to deal with them nearly as much now and that's nice."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, they've mostly lost interest in me too unless I do something work related that gets me in the papers and then they drag everything back up. When I came up with the most recent use for dragon's blood the article also mentioned the war and Harry," she looked at Viktor, "that I once dated you and that I was married to Ron. What's any of that to do with dragon's blood? I wish they'd stop doing that."

"They do it because it sells papers," Ginny said. "You're a much bigger story than the dragon's blood. Tittle-tattle is always more lucrative than information."

"But it's old gossip, why do they keep reprinting it?" Hermione said. "Who cares?"

"You'd be surprised," Oliver said. "Besides, you just saved the Ministry from being blown up. It's not like you're keeping a low profile."

"The whole Ministry wasn't going to blow up," Hermione scoffed. "At most I saved one wing, probably more like a couple of floors."

"Oh, luv," Ron said, shaking his head. "You're so barmy sometimes."

"And aren't you likely the next head of the Wizengamot?" Harry said, arching an eyebrow at her.

"Maybe," Hermione said. "Singh hasn't stepped down yet."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Still, as Oliver already pointed out, you're not exactly fading into the wallpaper. People want to know about you because you do things that effect their lives. So does Harry when he goes around with the Aurors breaking up dark magic rings and fighting evil wizards. If he'd stop doing that, people would forget about him too."

Ginny shook her head. "He just can't help himself. I thought, when he took the Defense Against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts, I'd be married to a nice quiet professor who came home for his tea and wore patches on the elbows of his robes, but no. I got an action hero instead."

"Right?" Ron said. "It's like you live with Gilderoy Lockhart if Lockhart hadn't been completely full of shit."

Everyone laughed.

"Now take me, I'm a simple shopkeeper," Ron said.

Everyone groaned.

"What?" Ron said. "I am!"

"You make loads of Galleons, Ron. You've got shops all over the bloody world," Harry scoffed. "You're not a simple anything."

"But I'm not in the paper all the time?"

"What are you talking about? Your ugly mug is in the paper every week," Ginny said.

"Those are ads not articles," Ron said. "That's different."

"Hardly," Harry scoffed. "You probably have the most recognizable face of the three of us these days."

"I wouldn't go that far," Viktor said. "You are still Harry Potter."

Everyone amicably agreed.

Harry grumbled something noncommittal and Ginny kissed his cheek. "It's alright, luv," Ginny said. "Ron's still a tosser."

Everyone laughed, even Ron. "On that note," he said, standing and holding out his hand to Hermione who took it and stood. "We're off."

"So soon?" Ginny said.

"Soon?" Ron said. "We've been here since Friday afternoon. Besides we're having breakfast with Dennis later and I'd like to get some sleep first."

"Fine, fine," Ginny said waving them away.

They said goodbye to the rest of the group and took the Floo from the manor back to their townhouse in London. As they were getting ready for bed, Hermione pulled her shirt off and Ron saw her wince. "You over did it," he said.

She sighed. "Probably, but I had such a good time. The last time we danced was at the New Year's party and we only danced a couple of slow songs then."

He smiled at her and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. When he came out he was carrying a small bottle of potion. He handed it to her. "Drink this."

It was an analgesic for pain. She took it and lay down. Ron kissed her forehead. As she was dozing off she realized there was something she urgently needed to address at work at Monday morning's meeting.


	9. Getting There

**Getting There**

The next day at the Ministry, Hermione's schedule started with the senior Unspeakables meeting, which they had first thing every Monday morning to discuss upcoming projects, ongoing projects, and issues that might arise from either, along with any departmental problems that might be occurring.

When they had finished with the regular agenda, Thomas asked, "Does anyone have any other issues?"

Hermione raised her hand.

"Yes," Thomas said.

"It's more of favor, actually," she said. The eyes of the five other Unspeakables turned to her.

"As you know, my son is the only remaining candidate in the trials and it looks very much like he'll go all the way."

"You know we can't confirm that," Ellis said.

"Of course not," Hermione said. "That's not the favor. It's to do with the lounge."

"The lounge?" Ellis said, arching an eyebrow. "What of it?"

"Well, assuming he passes his test today, he gets privileges to the lounge."

"What of it?" Seacole, the senior Unspeakable in the Love Division, asked.

"I was wondering if we might replace my picture on the wall of shame with a different photo."

"You can't choose your embarrassment girl," Seacole said.

Hermione bristled. "I'm not a girl. And I'm not asking to choose the replacement. I'm only asking that it be replaced."

"You are girl," Seacole huffed. "You're not even forty yet. You're practically still a child."

"Why?" Ellis said, cutting off Seacole, since he was prone to ranting at his advanced age.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Well, as you may recall, it's rather different from the other photos on the wall, and I'd rather my son not see it."

The other Unspeakables looked at each other.

"I mean," Hermione continued. "I understand the purpose of the wall. It's to keep us humble by showing us at our worst for everyone to see. I appreciate that. The thing is, that photo doesn't show me at my worst. Not even close and if, for example, I was with Ron instead of Viktor, it wouldn't bother me at all."

The other Unspeakables exchanged another round of looks.

Thomas cleared his throat. "It was challenging to come up with that one."

"What are you talking about? Hundreds of pictures of me have been taken over the years. Surely, there must be something else."

"Problem is, you always expect to have your photo taken," Ellis said.

"What?" Hermione said.

"You go out in public with the understanding that at any moment your photo could be snapped," Ellis explained. "None of the rest of us have that experience. Most of the other photos on the wall were taken of Unspeakables by Unspeakables."

"Either that, or they came from family or friends."

"Then why didn't—?"

"We tried," Thomas said. "You have extremely loyal friends. Not a single one came forward with a suitable photo, so we were left with what appeared in the papers."

"There have been loads of—" Hermione started to argue.

"Not really," Thomas said. "You always look, how to describe it?"

"Fiercely defiant," Ellis suggested.

Hermione's mouth dropped open. She had adopted that air early on as a form of self-defense against the publicity. "No one else has one of their children working here."

"We can't take it down. Everyone has a photo on the wall of shame, even Seacole," Ellis said. They all looked at the old man who sat at the end of table in his pajamas. He had dozed off and was softly snoring.

"Alright," Hermione said. "What if I were to bring you something more suitable? Would you replace it?"

The others exchanged looks again.

"Yes," Thomas said.

"If it's suitable," Ellis said.

"Fine," Hermione said.

"Meeting adjourned then," Thomas said and they all rose, except Seacole, who they left to finish his nap.

Hermione left the meeting and went into the lounge. She stood looking at the wall of shame with her hands on her hips trying to think how to come up with a suitable picture. The photos varied from Unspeakable to Unspeakable, but most of them were of drink-fueled foolishness. In Thomas' he was passed out on the sidewalk next to a pile of his own sick. Ellis' was in black and white from ninety years ago. She was dancing on a coffee table in her bra and knickers. Seacole's was also in black and white. He was vomiting over the side of a luxury liner. The rest were mostly like that. The ones that didn't feature drunken shenanigans were of Unspeakables who'd Spliffed and fainted somewhere. The two outliers were her photo and Johnson's from the Time Division. In his photo, he was being punched in the face by someone he'd gotten shirty with in a pub. She looked at the photo of her and Viktor in the Mediterranean. He was chest deep in the water. She was in his arms and based on their movements it was clear they were having sex. It was pretty good sex as she recalled. The photo was taken in profile from the shore, and while it was clear what they were doing, nothing was visible.

She shook her head. Still, she'd rather Art not see it. She felt like he knew entirely too much as it was. She resolved to see Harry at lunch.

xXx

Harry was grading papers in his office at Hogwarts when Hermione stepped out of the fireplace. He looked up. Not many people knew the Floo address to this office and even fewer were allowed to pass through the wards that protected it, so it was rather surprising to see someone step in. "Hermione?" he said, as she dusted herself off.

"Hello Harry. Sorry to interrupt."

Harry set down his quill and came out from behind his desk. "What brings you all the way up here in the middle of the day?"

"I need a friend," she said.

He gave her a sympathetic look. "Tea?"

"Please."

He flicked his wand at a tea pot on the other side of the room and then sat down in one of the two chairs in front of his desk. Hermione took the other. "What's happened?" Harry asked.

"I'm going to tell you something in confidence and then I need to rant a bit because I work in the barmiest place in the universe," she said.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Alright."

"Art is trying for Unspeakable," she said.

Harry's mouth dropped open and he sat back against the chair. "You're kidding."

"I wish I was," she said.

"Ron must be—"

"He's not happy," Hermione said. "I'm not either, to be honest, but Art's doing really well and it looks very much like he's going to make it."

"Well," Harry said, getting up to pour the tea. "He's always been exceptionally bright."

"I know," Hermione said, taking the cup he handed her. "I just wish he'd go be bright at something else. Something safer. Something less…less…"

"Barmy?" Harry guessed, resuming his seat.

"Yes," she said. "And now he's going to have lounge privileges and I need an embarrassing photo and I'm really hoping you have one."

"An embarrassing photo?" Harry said, confused. "Why?"

Hermione sighed and took a sip of tea. "Because of the wall of shame."

"There's a wall of shame in the Department of Mysteries?"

Hermione let out an even deeper sigh. "Yes. Apparently, two hundred years ago, Alistair Dibble decided that the Unspeakables were an arrogant lot and that the best way to deal with those egos was to put up a photo of each Unspeakable doing something embarrassing so that they would remember they could be as stupid as everyone else."

Harry pondered that for a moment. "Does it work?"

"Of course not, we're all still arrogant egotists, who think our projects are the most important. Although, honestly, the Space Division is the only one with practical applications."

"I assume that's where you work," Harry said dryly.

"Of course. I specialize in Apparition. I'm not likely to be in the Love Division, now am I?"

Harry snorted. "Well, you also spent an entire year with a Time-Turner, so I thought—"

"Well, yes, Time Division has some useful artifacts, to be sure, but—" she shook her head. "It doesn't matter. The point is, there's a photo of me on the wall of shame and I'd rather Art not see it."

Harry arched an eyebrow at her and said anxiously. "A photo of what?"

She looked at him and then her eyes went wide. "Not that! Good grief, those were all burned. No. It's just Viktor and I having sex in the Mediterranean."

Harry's mouth dropped open.

Hermione sighed. "You can't see really anything. We're in fairly deep water. If it were a Muggle picture, we might just being hugging, but it's magical and the movement makes it fairly obvious what we're actually doing."

"Oh," he said quietly.

"Anyway, everyone else's photos are mostly just drunk pics. I got the others to agree to let me change it, but it has to be embarrassing. Please tell me that somewhere you have a photo of me doing something humiliating that won't make my son want to poke out his eyes."

Harry shook his head. "I can't think of anything like that. I mean, we don't really take a lot of photos among us. So many people take our pictures, well, we never really bother, do we?"

Hermione let out another deep sigh. "No. Bloody hell, Harry."

They both sat thinking for a time while they drank their tea.

"Hang on," Harry said. "How about a memory?"

"I need a photo?"

"Can't you take one in a Pensieve?" Harry asked.

She hadn't considered that. "I guess that's theoretically possible. Have you ever done it?"

"No, but since when has that ever stopped us?"

She chuckled. "Never."

Harry stood and began rummaging through cabinets. "I know I've got a camera in here somewhere." A few minutes later, he said, "Aha!" and pulled out a magical camera.

"How should we do this?" Hermione asked.

"You Impervious the camera so it can handle being in the Pensieve and I'll pull the memory and put it in." He touched his wand to his temple and pulled out a long silvery thread.

Hermione cast Impervious on the camera and handed it to him as he dipped the tip of his wand and the silvery thread into the liquid surface of the Pensieve. He went to put his face in but Hermione grabbed his arm. "Wait, which memory?" He opened his mouth to say but Hermione said, "No. Don't tell me. Just take the picture."

"Aren't you going to look?" Harry asked when she didn't come over to the Pensieve.

"I don't think so. It's better if you just snap the photo. I shouldn't have too much control over this. It's not fair."

Harry held the camera to his face and stuck his head into the Pensieve. A moment later he emerged, drew his wand, and pulled the memory out. Then he surprised Hermione by pulling out another memory and dropping it into the liquid surface. Then he emerged and put the second memory away. He held out the camera to her. "Do you know the development spells for film? Or do you want me to do it?" Harry asked.

"If you know them, go ahead. I'd have to look them up," Hermione said.

"Alright," Harry said. He held his wand over the camera, cast a darkening spell, and then removed the film. "What size do you want the pictures to be?"

"They're all eleven by fourteen," Hermione said. "Because apparently eight by ten isn't embarrassing enough."

Harry chuckled and found some parchment big enough to put the photos on and then cast the spell to cut it to the right length. "There you go," he said. "All set." He cast another spell and the film flew into the air, subdivided, and then dropped onto the parchment creating two perfect photos.

Hermione was surprised to be looking at two pictures taken just eight months ago. In the first she was face down on a table in the pub down the street from her home. There was a small puddle of drool next to her mouth and a mostly empty bottle of Jameson's in front of her. The second photo was taken on the street that ran in front of her house. She was vomiting on some shrubbery. Hermione stepped back from the photos. "I…I…"

"What?" Harry asked. "Won't one of these do?"

"Yes," she whispered. "I just didn't realize they'd be so recent."

"Oh, well, I could go back further. How far—"

"No, it's fine. These are…it's just hard to see…I mean, I know I have a problem…"

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, concern etched across his features.

"I'm fine," Hermione said, pulling herself together. She put the two photos in her bag. "Thank you. This should make them happy."

"Hermione," Harry said. She looked at him and he hugged her. "Take it easy, alright?"

She smiled and squeezed his arm. "I'm fine. Thanks for your help."

He nodded and she stepped back into the fireplace. A few moments later, she stepped out of one of the fireplaces in the Ministry's main hall. She took the elevator down to the Department of Mysteries and went right to Thomas' office in the Time Division. His door was open so she stuck her head in. "Do you have a moment?"

"Come in," he said.

She closed the door behind her, took the two photos out of her bag, and set them on his desk. "Will one of these do?"

Thomas looked at the two photos. "Sit down," he said kindly.

Hermione really didn't want to discuss this anymore, but he was the director. She sat.

"These look recent," he said.

"They're from earlier this year," she replied without meeting his eyes.

"I didn't realize you'd…slipped so recently," Thomas said without judgement.

Hermione cleared her throat. "It was a brief. I was still on injury leave."

"Ahh," Thomas said. "Who took the pictures?"

"No one," Hermione said. "They're photographed memories. I just got them from Harry."

Thomas' eyes widened. "You just popped out at lunch and got Harry Potter to take photos of his memories for you?"

"Yes," Hermione said flatly.

"My goodness, what a life you lead," Thomas said.

"It is what it is," Hermione said. "So, will one of those do?"

Thomas looked down at the photos again. "Are you sure you want to switch them? I imagine it will be much harder for you to look at one of these than it is to look at what's already there. You've never seemed particularly bothered by that photo until today."

Hermione frowned at him. "Why would I be? It's not like you can really see anything, although it's obvious what we're doing. Besides, we were on a private beach. It's not like we were in Black Pool in the middle of a crowd. I'm not some slapper. Viktor and I had been together for over a year then. We were living together. If you think I'm embarrassed at having sex with my fit boyfriend when I was in my twenties, think again. How many other Unspeakables have had a professional Quidditch player? None of you. That's how many." She glowered at him.

He couldn't have looked more sympathetic. "Then why change it to something that clearly upsets you far more?"

She sighed. "Because it's not about what's easiest for me to look at. It's about what's easiest for Art."

Thomas surprised her by asking, "Does Art know you have a drinking problem?"

"I think it's safe to say he does," she said quietly.

"And does he know that you used to be involved with Viktor Krum?" Thomas asked.

"Of course," Hermione said. "What's your point? Most of the pictures on that wall are of drunken stupidity. Another one won't matter."

"Neither of these pictures is of drunken stupidity," he said quietly. "They're just pictures of a drunk."

She winced as though he'd struck her.

"Personally," he continued. "I hate the wall of shame. It's stupid and pointless and does nothing to curb anyone's ego. A few more retirements come around and I'll do away with it entirely."

"Right, well, that won't really address the matter at hand," Hermione said.

"True," Thomas said. "Leave it with me then." He set aside the photos and pulled over a piece of parchment he'd been working on when she came in.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but then thought better of it. She settled on "Good day" and left for her own office.

xXx

She went home early. Anxiety about the photo coiled in her stomach all day punctuated by the humiliation of Thomas calling her a drunk. The paradox of having anxiety about her drinking was that it made her really want a drink. The irony was not lost on her. By the time Ron came home, she was pacing the living room.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked as he watched her move anxiously around the room.

"I'm not drinking," she said.

"Okay," he said. "I can see that. So, what are you—?"

"That's it," Hermione snapped at him. "That's what I'm doing."

Ron stood very still in the center of the room. "What happened today?"

She turned around so quickly he thought she was going to snap at him again, but instead her face crumpled and she started to cry. The entire story came out in a weepy rush.

Ron put his arms around her. "That sounds like a rotten day."

"Thomas called me a drunk. How does he even know that? I never drank at work. Never, not once."

"But he was your partner for ages, luv," Ron said gently. "He's one of the few Unspeakables we actually socialize with. I'm sure he's picked up on things over the years. He's an astute guy. He's like you in that he's fiercely intellectual but grounded at the same time. He notices people. You said yourself that's why he was a good choice for director."

"I hate this," she said, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "I feel like I've finally got a handle on the drinking, on what happened when we were apart, and then this happens. Which photo do you think Thomas will choose?"

Ron shrugged. "It doesn't matter which one he picks. Art's a big boy. He can handle it."

Hermione shook her head. "He shouldn't have to."

"It's the price of notoriety, luv. He deals with our lives a lot more than he would have if we'd been different people, but we're us. Nothing to do be done about that now."

"I feel sick," Hermione said, sitting on the sofa.

Ron sat next to her. "You'll be okay. No matter how this plays out, it's just a picture on a wall. It might be shocking the first few times he sees it, but then it'll fade into the background. It's why walls like that don't work. It's just background noise after a while."

"True," she said. "I just have to wait it out."

"Right," he said and kissed the top of her head.

xXx

The next morning, Hermione dropped her bag in her office and then walked into the lounge to get a cup of tea like she did every morning. There was no sense putting it off. Thomas had told her to leave the photographs with him and she was sure he would have made a decision already. He wasn't one to put off that sort of thing. As she walked into the lounge three Unspeakables from the Death Division were having tea and arguing about their latest project in the corner. She was somewhat shocked to see Art standing in front of the wall of shame. He was an inch taller than his father now and blocked her view of the picture of her. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she went to stand beside him. She was shocked to see that the photo on the wall was no longer her and Viktor in the water, but also neither of the two she'd given Thomas yesterday. Instead, the photo was of her Spliffing at the World Cup ages ago and collapsing into a heap with a muddy splash.

Art looked down at her with a bemused expression. "How old were you then?"

"Just a few years older than you are now," Hermione said with utter relief.

"Nice Spliff. What caused you to over tap?" he asked.

"Oh, it was pouring rain and a terrible thunder storm. The stadium at the World Cup was struck by lightning and we were called in to reinforce it. I hadn't had enough to eat and I'd just had a blazing row with your dad, and well, you can see the result."

"What a mess," Art said, smiling.

"She was quite a mess," Thomas said, as he walked up and stood on the other side of Hermione. "Mud everywhere. I was going to cast Mobilicorpus to get her to the medical tent, but I guess your dad had seen everything and he just plucked her out of the mud and carried her all the way back to her tent. Very gallant."

"Seems excessive to carry you all that way," Art commented.

"Well," Hermione said. "Ron doesn't care for Mobilicorpus."

"No," Thomas said. "He snapped at me when I suggested it."

"He thinks it makes the person being lifted seem dead. He's a bit touchy about me looking dead," Hermione said.

"To right," Thomas agreed. "Shouldn't you be headed to training?" he asked Art.

Art looked at the wall clock, "Yes, sir." He nudged his mother. "Nice mud bath," he teased and left the lounge chuckling.

When the door closed behind him, Hermione turned to Thomas. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Thomas shrugged. "When you mentioned that Harry had photographed his memories, I realized I could do that too and then I remembered you Spliffed at the World Cup."

Hermione nodded. "Yes. Very embarrassing that."

"Indeed," Thomas said nodding. He smiled at her and went to get a cup of tea. Hermione stood for a moment longer looking at her younger self faint into the mud over and over again. She smiled. At the time, it had been hugely embarrassing to her, but now, it was no more consequential than if it had been a photo of her stubbing her toe. She went to get a cup of tea. She had a lot of work to do.

When she got back to her office, there was a large envelope on her desk. She didn't bother opening it and just tucked it in her bag.

xXx

Ron arrived home at six o'clock to find Hermione in the kitchen having a snack and reading the newspaper. He noticed she'd discarded the _Daily Prophet_ already and was now reading _The Times._

"What are the Muggles up to?" Ron asked.

"More of this Brexit mess," she said, setting aside the paper.

"The what?" Ron said.

"Never mind," she said.

"How did it go today?" he asked. "Did Thomas change the photo?"

She smiled. "He did."

"Well?" he said, when she didn't elaborate. "Which did he pick?"

"Neither. He took a photo of his memory of me Spliffing at the World Cup and falling into the mud." Ron looked confused. "The one that took place shortly after we got back together. Remember, when the lightning hit the stadium?"

"Oh, yeah," Ron said. He pulled out a chair and sat next to her and took a biscuit off the plate in front of her. Winky didn't appear, but a cup of tea appeared in front of Ron. "Thanks, Winky," he said to the room in general. A few more biscuits appeared on the plate in front of Hermione. "So, what happened to the other photos?" Ron asked.

"Thomas left them in an envelope on my desk," she said, and took another biscuit. The new arrivals were Winky's homemade jammie dodgers.

Ron looked at her work bag which she'd tossed on the table when she came in. The edge of an envelope was sticking out. He tugged it free and said, "This envelope?"

She looked at him and they held eye contact for a long moment. "Yes."

He opened it and pulled out the photos. The top two were the ones Harry had taken. He looked at them for a moment and then turned them over, leaving the one of her and Viktor in the water. He grimaced and arched an eyebrow at her. "Did you two ever have sex in a bed?"

She let out a soft snort. "Once or twice." She turned over the photo and placed them all back in the envelope.

"What are you going to do with them?" Ron asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know. Burn them maybe. Or keep them in my desk as a cautionary tale."

"Never to leave me again?" Ron teased.

"Ha ha," Hermione said dryly.

Ron pulled her over to him by the seat of her chair. "That's good advice you know. Never to leave me again."

"I'll take that under advisement," Hermione said with a slight smile.

"Good," Ron said and slide his hand into her hair to cup her head and bring her in for a kiss. She made it easier by sliding into his lap.

He had his shirt off and was unbuttoning the top of her robes when there was a loud pop and Harry appeared in the kitchen. "Good grief," he exclaimed. "Don't you two ever have sex in a bed?"

Ron and Hermione glanced at each other and then laughed. "Once or twice," Ron said, pulling on his shirt.

Hermione just shook her head and started buttoning her robes. "What can we do for you Harry?"

"I'll make it quick," Harry said. "Ginny wants to have a bon voyage party for Denis on Saturday evening from six to nine. She's grown quite fond of him since he's been staying at the Broomsticks all summer. It'll just be family and the friends he's made since he's been here. Does that work for you two?"

"That's fantastic," Ron said. "We were just going to have him over for dinner, but a party sounds better."

"Good," Harry said. "Ginny's going to close the Broomsticks for three hours so we'll have it there."

"Perfect," Ron said. "Tell her since she's providing the venue, I'll foot the bill for food and drink. Open bar is fine."

"Even better," Harry said, smiling. "Alright, I'll let her know and you'll get an invitation tomorrow."

"Great," Ron said. "Thanks Harry."

"As you were," Harry said and Disapparated.

"That was sweet of her," Hermione said.

"Yeah," Ron said.

She stood and took his hand. "Want to pick up where we left off? We could try one of those beds you people keep going on about."

Ron chuckled. "Yeah. I think you'll like it."

"Oh, I'm sure I will," Hermione said and led the way upstairs.

xXx

The rest of the week went quickly for Hermione. There were several projects she had to review and on Wednesday she met Pietra for lunch and found that the years apart hadn't affected their friendship that much and they got on just as well as they always had. After a lovely lunch, they made plans to go shopping the following weekend.

xxx

Ron, on the other hand, was having a hard time with Denis' upcoming departure. "I feel like I've just started to get to know him and now he's leaving," he said as they were getting dressed for the party Saturday evening.

"I know," Hermione said. "Perhaps he'll come back or maybe he'll invite you to Kenya. Or to meet somewhere in the middle."

"You think?" Ron asked hopefully.

"Maybe. We'll just have to see," she said.

He sighed. "It's been really great having him in the shop this week. He's a natural with the customers and has a real affinity for charms. I mean, I've yet to show Art a charm he can't do, but he just doesn't enjoy it the way Denis does. I know Ester has that internship set up for Denis in their Ministry when he gets back, but he could do so well with charmed objects."

"Maybe he'll go that way," Hermione said. "You never know."

"I don't know how Ester would feel about that though," Ron said. "Government is kind of their family business."

"I'm sure she just wants him to be happy," Hermione said, slipping her feet into her sandals. "We should go."

xXx

The Three Broomsticks was already filling up when they arrived. Just family was a lot people and when Ginny added the other Gringotts interns and the friends Denis had made through his cousins, the inn was packed. As they made their way through the room greeting everyone, Hermione heard Molly say to Ron's Auntie Muriel, "No, it's Ron's oldest son that is going to Kenya, not Artie. Remember, I explained all this to you?"

"Who was Ron's first wife?" Muriel asked.

Molly sighed.

Hermione chuckled. Molly would be explaining the situation all night to Muriel.

Ron got them both pumpkin juice at the bar and then they caught sight of Denis and went to greet him. He was standing with some of his friends from work. As Ron and Hermione approached, Denis said, "This is my father, Ron Weasley, and his wife Hermione."

Everyone shook hands. The other young people were impressed since they'd grown up hearing Ron and Hermione's names. Growing up in Kenya, Denis had known who Harry Potter was, but he'd never heard of Ron and Hermione until he came to England.

As the evening progressed, the party naturally began to divide along age lines with the younger people congregating near the bar and the older ones on the other side of the room. As Hermione made her way back to the bar for some sparkling water she heard Denis refer to Art as his brother while he explained that he'd grown up in Kenya with his mama and baba and Art had grown up here.

Later, as Muriel once again mistook Denis for his cousin John, Molly thought someone ought to take a photo of John and Denis together because the resemblance was startling. The two young men thought it was funny and began posing and pointing at each other. After the photos started, they continued: Ron with his two sons, Ron and Hermione with Art and Denis, Art and Denis together, and then the entire Weasley clan, and then Denis with several of his friends. It was a fun night and it was hard when it was time for Denis to take his Portkey.

He'd already cast a shrinking charm on his luggage so it was in his pocket. At nine o'clock he said goodbye to everyone and went through a last round of hugs before he and Ron walked up to the roof of the Three Broomsticks.

"It's been wonderful having you here," Ron said. "You know you're welcome back any time."

"Thanks," Denis said, clearly trying to keep his emotions in check.

"And whatever career path you choose," Ron said. "I'm proud of you. I'd be happy to help with whatever you decide."

Denis nodded. "I appreciate that."

"Right," Ron said. "Well, you should be off then. Don't want to miss your window."

Denis nodded again before hugging Ron. Ron held him tight, but only for a moment and then let him go. Denis pulled his wand and touched it to the old shoe that Hermione had converted into a Portkey to Nairobi for him. In an instant, he was gone. Ron took a deep breath and stared out into the night for a long time before he felt together enough to go back downstairs.

xXx

By the time Ron got back to Hermione, the inn was open to the public and most of the party had gone home, but Art and Emma were still there talking with Hermione.

"Alright there, Dad? Art asked.

Ron nodded.

"Want a drink?" Art asked, holding up the ale he was drinking.

"No, I think I just want to go home. I'm knackered," Ron said. "Thanks for coming tonight."

"I wouldn't have missed it. Turns out, you were right. It is nice to have a brother. I like him."

"Me too," Emma said. "I'm going to miss him."

"Yeah," Ron said, sadly. "Me too. You ready?" he asked Hermione.

"Yes." She hugged Art and Emma, told them to come to dinner on Sunday, and then stepped into the fireplace and disappeared in the green flame. Ron hugged Emma and then Art. "Goodnight, son," he said.

"Goodnight, Dad."

Ron stepped into the fireplace and the Floo sent him rushing back home.

xXx

It was the following Friday morning, when the Verreaux's Eagle Owl arrived along with the other owls that brought the paper and the post. Ron gave the foreign owl two treats and a bowl of water before sitting back down at the kitchen table to read the letter from Denis. Hermione watched him open it. After a few minutes, he set down the letter and closed his eyes.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, he's home," he said, his voice heavy with emotion.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, starting to get concerned. "Is he alright?"

"Yeah, it's just…" he looked at her, his eyes glassy with tears. "The letter starts 'Dear Dad.'"

She reached across the table and took his hand.

"He says his internship at the Ministry is going well, but he's been thinking about how to charm an MP3 player and he's got some pretty good ideas."

Hermione smiled at him. "Of course, he does. He's your son."

Ron smiled and wiped his eyes with the edge of his hand. "Yeah. Yeah, he is. You know, I think this might turn out alright."

"Of course, it will," Hermione said, squeezing his hand. "One thing I know to be true is that one irresponsible moment can change your life, but it doesn't have to define it or ruin it. You handled this situation right and it's turned out fine. That's the trick. How you handle it."

Ron brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. "You're wise, you know that?"

Hermione shook her head. "Slow is what I am, but I'm getting there."

 _~Finis~_

Author's Note: Thank you for reading. You might also like my books: **Exposed Fury** and **One Big Beautiful Thing** , available anywhere books are sold and on all digital platforms. Enjoy!


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